Weather With You
by MagTwi78
Summary: Long days are spent swimming in the river with your mates, and trying to catch the eye of the cute boy from out of town. It might be a hundred degrees in the shade, but we'll still wear silly paper hats and eat a big, hot, roast dinner. This is Christmas in Australia, and we wouldn't have it any other way. E/B
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Long days are spent swimming in the river with your mates, and trying to catch the eye of the cute boy from out of town. It might be a hundred degrees in the shade, but we'll still wear silly paper hats and eat a big, hot, roast dinner. This is Christmas in Australia, and we wouldn't have it any other way.

**A/N:** I'm grateful to Astro2009 for all of the betalove—thanks, mate! Love and tinsel to TwiSNfan for pre reading, and for being generally amazing. I'd pull her cracker any day.

This started as a one-shot, but it's blown out a little. This is a mini-fic, so it'll be about half a dozen chapters at the most.

Before we begin: Thongs are footwear commonly known as 'flip-flops' elsewhere in the world. Bathers is a swimsuit. And lemonade, for Aussies, means Sprite or 7-Up. Hope this clears up any confusion ;-)

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**Weather With You**

**Chapter 1**

I tap my foot impatiently beneath the counter as Mrs Biers counts coins in front of me. She buys the same thing every Saturday—surely it's not so hard to have the correct change before she comes in here?

"Oh, blow!" she says, smiling at me with a creased-lip grin. "I lost count. I'll have to start again."

Placing my hands over the coins, I drag them towards me. "Here, let me. It'll only take me a minute."

"Oh, Bella. You're such a nice girl to do that for me." She stretches the fingers on her hand. "My arthritis _has_ been playing up lately."

I count the coins quickly, and give her back the excess. "Here you go. Would you like a bag?"

"Yes, please." She drops the coins in to her purse and puts it back into her handbag. We go through this routine every single Saturday morning. She buys the local paper and a carton of milk. She wraps the milk in the newspaper—to keep it cold on the trip home to Mr Biers—then it all goes into a plastic bag. She'll be responsible for a thousand seal deaths, I'm sure of it. She takes her plastic bag from me. "What are your plans for next year, Bella?"

I force a smile onto my lips. "Oh, I'm not sure. I'm hoping to go to uni in Melbourne, but I won't know more until January. That's when we find out our placements."

"Ah yes, that's right," she says. "My Riley's off in Melbourne. He's studying Engineering."

She's told me this already, but I nod anyway. She's told me this a thousand times. Riley's a bit of a genius, but I'm sure old Mrs Biers doesn't know that the reason her grandson has the nickname "Beersy" is not just because of his last name.

"You have a nice weekend, Mrs Biers."

"You too, Bella. Make sure you wear a hat—I'm sure you're inclined to burn, and it's going to be very hot. In the forties, the weatherman said."

"Thanks, Mrs Biers. See you next week."

"Have a lovely Christmas," she says, and the bell above the door rings as she pulls it open. A rush of hot air comes in, despite the fact that the aircon is running, and I'm relieved when the door closes again, but I pull my ponytail away from the back of my neck and fan myself with my hand.

"Morning, Bella!" booms a voice from somewhere in the shop. I jump a mile.

"Shit, Dale! You gave me a heart attack!"

My boss blows through the shop, his motorcycle helmet still on his head and a pile of papers tucked under his arm. He gives me a wave on his way to the door that leads to the house adjoining the shop. "Cuppa?" he asks.

"Yes, please," I call after him. Another wave tells me he heard me, and I head over to the magazine rack to straighten things up. It's always a mess on a Saturday morning—after the after-school rustling of the plastic covers by the schoolboys in an attempt to try to see a bit of boob, there's crap everywhere.

As I straighten, I mentally go through my Christmas list. I shouldn't be surprised at how quickly it's coming up, but I am. School was done with a month ago, and I've spent most of my days hanging out with my friends or down at the river, but there really isn't much to do in a town as small as Forks Creek.

My best friend, Angela, and I headed to Melbourne a few weeks ago to do some shopping. We were a bit restricted on where we could go because Ange doesn't turn 18 until January, but it was fun to hang out and shop and see the bright lights of the Big Smoke. It also cemented an idea in my head—regardless of what I get into at uni, I can't stay in Forks Creek. I need to get out.

So, as a result of my shopping trip, I have presents sorted for pretty much everyone—Charlie, Renee, Phil, my brother Jamie, my cousin's kids, and Ange. The Clearwater kids are getting iTunes vouchers, because I have no idea what to get eleven and thirteen year olds. I've done a heap of baking, so Charlie's mates at the station are all getting cute little gingerbread houses. I know they have sweet tooths, so that should keep them all happy.

I just need to get something for my lovely neighbour, Liz. Since I moved back to Forks Creek when I was fourteen, Liz has been a mother-figure to me. Don't get me wrong, Renee is and will always be my mum, but after she married Phil when I was ten, and he got a permanent job in the States as a baseball scout, I decided I wanted to stay in Australia with my dad. My school was here, my friends were here, and I was too worried about Charlie being on his own to pick up and move halfway around the world.

"Here you go," says Dale, breaking into my thoughts. He has two cups, and holds one out to me. It's white with the state Lotteries logo on it. It's faded so it's barely recognisable, but it's the same cup I've been using since I started working here three years ago. It's part of my routine.

"Ta," I reply, taking the steaming cup from him. I know it's already approaching the thirties outside and it's not even 10AM yet, but I sip the tea gratefully anyway. "Is everyone up?"

"Nah," he says. "Well, mostly everyone. Emmett's still asleep, the lazy shit."

"Suppose it seems worse when you've been awake since four," I say, smirking over the top of my cup.

"Exactly!" Dale pounds on the counter for emphasis, and his tea almost spills. "See, Bella, you understand me. If Emmett wasn't spending every Friday night running around 'til all hours…"

"So give him the Saturday morning shift," I say, and I laugh as I have to dodge when Dale tries to clip me over the ear. "Hey! Watch the tea!"

"You kids these days. Bloody cheeky." Dale shakes his head as he heads back into the house. "I'm gonna go get some toast. Want some?"

"I'm right, thanks," I reply. "I had brekky before I came in."

Smiling to myself, I grab a feather duster and dust off the shelves. I really like Dale. He's a bit of a polarising character, and people either loathe him or love him. In fact, in this town, most didn't like him at first. He declared when he came here that he was here to do business—that he was here to make money, not friends. Over time, however, he's grown on me, and on most of the people in town.

I straighten the tinsel that's falling down in the front window, and stand the blow-up Santa back on his feet, cursing the little shits that came in here earlier, in their yet-to-be grass-stained cricket whites, and made a mess.

The rest of my shift passes just like any other Saturday morning shift, filled with tradies getting breakfasts of pies from the warmer and Big Ms. There's my other regulars, including old Tom, who never says a word as he bustles in to get his paper, but always calls out a "Thank you!" as he leaves, like he can't possibly go without using his manners. It's weird, but he does it every single week.

I'm in the fridge, restocking the milk, when I hear the doorbell ring. "Just a minute!" I call through the open door. I straighten the last couple of bottles, then rub my hands together as I exit the fridge, shutting the door behind me. "Be right there!"

There's no answer and I can't see anybody at the counter, so I imagine whoever has come in is either somewhere near the back of the shop or has left. I quickly glance at the convex mirrors that are at the end of each aisle, and see the distorted figure of a tall-looking guy dressed in tan shorts, a white t-shirt, and thongs.

I wait patiently, but this guy seems happy browsing in the five short aisles we have here at McCarty's General Store. My stomach rumbles at the same time I check the clock; it's one o'clock, which means knock-off time.

"Thanks for this morning," says Vera quietly, entering the main part of the shop. I smile at her—she's so unlike her husband, quiet and mild, but she has a wicked sense of humour. As opposite as most outsiders would think she and Dale are, they complement each other perfectly.

"You're welcome," I reply, grabbing my bag from under the counter.

"Would you mind working tomorrow afternoon?" she says, opening the till and taking out the cash that is my pay. "I know it's Christmas Eve, but I think it's going to be busy. Shelly from the caravan park said they've got heaps coming in early, so I suspect we'll be run off our feet."

"Sure," I reply, not too keen to work on Christmas Eve, but knowing I need the money. "But can I go at eight? I'm supposed to meet my friends at the Club. I promised."

"No problem," she says, handing me the money. "If it's still busy, I'll make Emmett work later."

"Sounds good." I stuff the cash into my pocket and smirk to myself—I'm sure Emmett would've liked to have gone to the Club himself. Picking up my bag, I head for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Bye, Bella."

The hot air hits me like a wave as soon as I walk out of the shop, and I know that even though I parked my ute under the shadiest tree in the street, it's still going to be a sauna. My thoughts are confirmed when I open the door, and hot air washes out from inside the cabin.

Pulling down the towel I used to cover the steering wheel, I lay it on the vinyl to protect the back of my legs, and kick off my sneakers, tossing them to the floor below the passenger seat. I wind down all the windows because, although I'm well-off enough to have my own car, I'm poor enough to not own a car with air conditioning. The ute starts first go, and I rumble down the main street, summertime music blaring, and head to the part of town that runs along the river.

The houses here are further apart and, this far out of town, nobody has front fences or footpaths. There's no formed gutters, but the road is soft-edged with large ditches between the road and the front lawns. Jumping the ditches made for great long jump practice when I had to run for the school bus when I was younger. I pass a couple of people I know along the way, so I give them a friendly wave. One of the things about being the Sergeant's daughter is that _everybody_ knows me. It meant that I didn't get into trouble when I was younger, because my dad would _always_ find out. So, while my friends were off trying to sneak into pubs in the next town—underage—I was home. Charlie swears I'll thank him for it one day.

He loosened the reins a bit after I turned 18. Just a bit.

I slow down and turn into my driveway, pulling up behind Dad's Falcon, and slip my feet into my thongs so my feet don't get cut up on our bindi-infested lawn. Although it only took five minutes to get home, I'm still feeling sticky and gross by the time I walk through the sliding door. "Dad!" I call. "I'm home!"

"In the lounge room!" he answers, and I dump my bag and keys on the kitchen table on my way in. Kicking off my thongs, I savour the way my bare feet feel against the cold tiles, and wander into the lounge room. When I walk in, I swear it looks like a bomb went off in Santa's workshop.

"What happened in here?" I ask, kicking paper out of the way to try and make space on the floor.

"I'm trying to wrap these" —he tries to angrily shake a piece of sticky tape off his finger— "bloody presents." He looks at me, and he looks properly ticked off.

"Here," I say, peeling the offending tape off his finger. "Let me."

He huffs, breathing out through his nose the way he does when he's trying to stop himself from saying something he shouldn't. "Thanks."

"Now that I'm doing this," I say, lining up the next present ready for wrapping, "want to sort out some lunch?"

"I can do that," he says, hurrying to his feet, and I smile. "Salad rolls? I stopped in at the bakery on the way home."

"Sounds good." I fold the paper, tucking in the edges so they're neat, and secure it with tape. "Oh, I'm working tomorrow night, so I'll go straight over to the Clearwaters'. Apparently the caravan park is packed, so Vera asked if I could help out."

"Okay," he says. "I might be there a bit late myself. I want to make sure the blokes have it covered. Pickles?"

"Yeah, ta." I set the present I've just wrapped aside, and start on the next one. "I'll head over to Liz's once I've done this and had lunch. I said I'd help her bottle peaches."

"Right-o," Charlie says in acknowledgement. "Lunch is ready."

I smile as I climb to my feet. Despite the fact that I'm all grown up, Charlie still insists on eating in the kitchen. He has a thing about eating on the carpet—it's one of the traits he did keep from Nanna Swan.

When I sit at the table, he sets a plate in front of me, then takes a seat opposite. We eat in silence for a bit, and like always, it's not awkward. I know when he wants to say something because he takes a bite of his roll, clears his throat, then brushes the crumbs from his mustache. "We right to go for Christmas Day?"

"Yeah, all good," I tell him. "I'll put the pav together on Christmas morning, and I'll just need you to carve the ham and the roast for lunch. Everything else is sorted."

"Yep," he says with a firm nod. "That I can do." He stands up. "Good, then." He sets his plate in the sink, then gestures towards the hallway, already headed in that direction. "I've gotta head to the station for a bit. I probably won't be home for tea. I need to put some hours in tonight so I can have Christmas off."

"No worries," I say. "I might see what Ange is up to."

"Right then. Oh, before I forget…" he pauses as he reaches the entrance to the hallway. "Liz will have one extra. She called earlier; her grandson is coming to stay for a bit." And with that, he heads off to get changed.

I clean up my own dishes, then set about wrapping the presents again. Charlie leaves and reminds me to drive safe, which I always do, and I'm home alone. As I finish wrapping Charlie's present, I mentally process what I'll need to do to add one more to our Christmas lunch. I haven't met Liz's grandson, although she talks about him often. Apparently he's into running and cricket, and he finished Year 12 this year, like me. I briefly wonder why Liz didn't mention it earlier.

Charlie's presents are wrapped, then I do my own, adding curled ribbon and cute name tags written in silver Sharpie. Once the rest of the presents are wrapped, I set them under the plastic tree we've had for as long as I can remember. I let my fingers trail across the salt-dough decorations I made when I was in Kinder, the ones that Charlie has kept. Added to that is the paper chain Ange and I made last year, plus there's a few random fishing and footy decorations added in there—Charlie's contribution. He hangs them with pride, and it makes me laugh every single year.

The landline rings, and I know who it'll be before I pick it up. "Hello?"

"Bella, why isn't your pretty face at my kitchen bench?" Liz's voice drifts through the phone.

"Calm down, I'll be there in a few minutes," I tell her teasingly. "I got sucked into wrapping Charlie's presents."

She laughs gently. "Got you again, did he?"

"He does every year," I reply with a grin. "I'll be over in a minute. Need me to bring anything?"

"Hmm…" she says, thinking. "I'm nearly out of sugar. Could you bring some with you?"

"No worries," I tell her, already headed for the pantry. "See you in a sec."

"Okay, love."

I hang up the phone, grab the sugar and my bag, then set them down again, deciding to change in to my bathers just in case the heat becomes unbearable and I need to jump in the river. After I grab my stuff and a towel, I head out the front door, the one rarely used, but easiest to get to Liz's place. Again, the heat hits me as I head out the front door, and I'm pretty sure my skin is going to burn between my front door and Liz's. The sun's rays prickle my skin, and I move as fast as I can and still be comfortable to get to Liz's. When I reach her door, I don't bother knocking. I just let myself in and shout my arrival. "Liz!"

"In the kitchen, Bella!"

I pat her little poodle, LiLi, who, when seeing it's just me, lifts her head and half-wags her tail. I giggle as her head flops back onto the couch, and I kick off my thongs at the bottom of the stairs and drape my towel over the bannister before taking the stairs two at a time to Liz's upstairs kitchen.

"Mmm," I say as a deliciously sweet aroma surrounds me. "They smell yummy."

"I'm adding stuff to them this year," Liz says, her back to me as she removes a bottle from the big pot on her stove. "Cinnamon and cloves."

"Well it seems like it's working." I take a slice of peach from the bench and pop it into my mouth, loving the sensation of the sticky sweet fruit coating my tongue. "Is this all of them?" I ask, looking at the bowls upon bowls of peaches covering the bench. "Wow, you got heaps this year."

Liz turns to face me, smiling widely, and her clear blue-green eyes twinkle. "I just made sure the birds didn't get them. Cheeky bastards. Drink, love?"

"Ta." I grin, and pull up a stool at the bench. Liz sets a can of lemonade in front of me, and it fizzes a little as I open it. I take a slurp. "Thanks. It's hot out there."

"Only going to get worse," she says. "Said on the news it'll hit the forties on Christmas Day. It's going to be a scorcher."

"Shit," I mutter. "And you'll be right boiling a pudding in that heat?"

"No wuckin' furries," says Liz, going back to her task. "Done it plenty of times before."

Liz's language never surprises me. In fact, when I used to stay with her when Dad worked nights when I was younger, she was the one who taught me dirty jokes. She used to get me to help write letters to all her cousins, and they all traded dirty jokes. There was the Wanker from Warrnambool, the Bitch from Beaufort, and the Arsehole from Albury. Liz has platinum blonde hair and is always tanned—it comes with spending so much time in the sun, baking in coconut oil. Liz is the kind of woman who's eternally youthful. When I was younger, I used to think she was like Marilyn Monroe. She definitely has that air about her.

Once I'm settled on my stool, I pick up a knife to start cutting and pitting. "Dad said your grandson is coming for Christmas lunch."

"He is," she says, wiping her hands on her apron. "He also said you wouldn't mind."

"Course I don't," I say quickly. "There'll be heaps of food."

"And I've heard you're a great cook." A voice behind me makes me jump. I wheel around on the stool, knife still in hand, and the boy standing there puts two hands up in defence. "Whoa, settle down. No need to stab me."

I lower the knife straight away, barely aware of his hands up because I'm too busy noticing his broad, naked chest. Damn, Liz's grandson is _built._ "Sorry. You scared the shit out of me. I nearly cut my bloody finger off."

He grins, and it's a bit crooked, but he smiles with his eyes. They're the same blue-green as Liz's, and he has natural eyelashes like the ones I've stabbed myself multiple times with a mascara wand to try to get. "Yeah, I'm sorry 'bout that." He holds his hand out to me, and it's large and tanned. "I'm Edward. Grandma's told me heaps about you."

I take his hand, knowing full well that mine are covered in peach juice. "Bella," I say, introducing myself. His hand is warm as he shakes mine, and he screws his face up as our fingers stick tackily together. I glance at our hands. "You deserved that."

Edward rolls his eyes, but he's still smiling. "I know. I did." He gives my hand a final squeeze, then releases it, wandering around the bench to wash his hands in the kitchen sink.

"Shaking hands? You being a grown-up gentleman now, Edward?" asks Liz, grinning as she stuffs peaches into a jar.

Edward kisses her on the cheek as turns on the tap. "Learned from the best, Grandma."

"Bullshit," she says. "I'll never be a grown up."

I laugh at their easy exchange, and slide a pile of sliced peaches across to Liz. "Are you here to make yourself useful, then?" I ask Edward.

"Go on," says Liz. "You use your new gentlemanly ways to help Bella." She gives him a nudge. "And put a shirt on. We've got company."

"'Kay," he says, pulling a can of Coke out of the fridge and coming around to sit next to me. He grabs a white t-shirt that's hanging over the back of a chair at the dining table behind us and pulls it over his head, and I kind of sadly watch that tanned skin on his flat stomach disappear. When he sits down, I swear I can feel the body heat radiating off him, and it sets my face aflame. I take a sip of my lemonade and hope I can blame it on the heat.

"So," he says, a little lazily and a lot sexily, "Grandma said you finished Year 12 this year." He picks up a knife and slices into a peach. Not going to lie, it looks a little awkward. When I nod, he continues. "Where'd you go?"

"Forks Creek High." I continue slicing, all the while watching the knife disaster that's about to happen. "You right with that?"

"Yep," he says, and the peach slips, the knife loudly hitting the chopping board. "Fuck! I mean...sorry, Grandma."

"Not me you should be apologising to," says Liz as she takes the knife from him, her eyes gleaming. "Bella is our guest."

That makes me laugh, because I've never, not once, felt like a guest in Liz's home. But Edward doesn't seem to know that. He starts stuffing peaches into a jar. "Right. Sorry, Bella."

I wave him off. "It's fine, really. I've been to the pub on a Friday night for the meat raffle. Believe me, I've heard worse."

"Speaking of which," says Liz, moving back to the stove and lowering jars into the pot, "apparently Harry won a ham last night. I ran into Sue at the shops this morning. They'll bring it to lunch."

"No way!" I say, placing the last cut peach into a bowl and setting down my knife. I wipe my hands on the tea-towel that's sitting on the bench. "She said she'd bring a ham, and she wins one for _free?_ Lucky buggers."

"I keep telling them they need to buy a lotto ticket," says Liz, taking the bowl.

"Who are these people?" says Edward, sliding a half-full jar to Liz, who slides it back and tells him to keep filling.

"Friends of ours," I say, hopping down from my stool and going to the sink to wash the stickiness from my hands. "Dad and Harry went to school together, and they both ended up back in town. Harry never left, but Dad came back after he met my mum. None of us have any family close by anymore, so we all have Christmas lunch together every year." I smile at past memories. "We always have heaps of fun, and stuff ourselves silly." I take a peek at the thermometer in the pot, and notice it's nowhere near reaching temperature yet.

"You leave that," says Liz, shooing me away. "Why don't you both get out for a bit. Go for a swim. You brought your bathers right, Bella?"

I flush and nod, but Edward is already headed towards the stairs. "Good idea, Grandma. C'mon," he says, and disappears down the staircase, his feet thundering on the carpeting.

"Take it easy, Edward!" calls Liz. She grins at me. "Go on. Make sure he doesn't drown in the river."

I smile back, feeling suddenly shy, and make my way down the stairs. Once I get to the bottom, Edward is already out the back door. Slipping on my thongs and draping my towel over my shoulder, I join him.

"I forget how nice it is here," he murmurs, and he's right. It is absolutely beautiful here. "I really need to come more often."

"Why don't you?" I ask, feeling suddenly shy. "I mean, I've never seen you here before."

"Dunno." He shrugs, and we start walking, our thongs thwacking as we walk, but barely making a sound above the piercing singing of the cicadas. "I think you've been away the times I've visited before."

"Oh," I reply lamely. "When have you been here?"

"Hmm," he says, stopping when we reach the shade of the large River Red Gum that sits beside the river. "A couple of years ago. I think you were in America a couple of times?"

"For holidays, visiting my mum," I reply. "I try to go a couple of times a year."

"Anyway, Grandma talks about you heaps," he says, pulling down the rope swing from its hook that is really a big nail hammered into the tree. "I think you were away on some of the weekends I came, too."

As I think, I shrug and bite my lip. "Netball, probably. We've done a few overnighters."

Edward grins as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. "I haven't met you before. Because if I'd met you, I definitely would've remembered you." And with that, he grabs the rope and swings out over the water, his grinning face the last thing I see before he plunges into the river.

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**A/N: **There's more to come. I'm hoping to finish around about New Years, but as I'm sure you all understand, this year can get a little crazy. I'll do my best!

I wish you all a very happy Christmas, whether it's filled with snow, sunshine, or somewhere in between!

Mags xx


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I'm going to try to post this via my phone. I'm currently in hospital, awaiting surgery to have my appendix removed. I'm all up on painkillers, and I've been waiting for HOURS.

Thanks to Astrosport2009 and TwiSNfan.

A stubby is a short-necked beer bottle. A stubby holder is a neoprene or foam holder to keep your beer cool. Mozzies are mosquitos. Sometimes they seem to be as big as sparrows. For the purpose of this story, 'footy' refers to Australian Rules football. If you feel like it, do a YouTube search for AFL. Oh, and the legal drinking age in Australia is 18. Here we go!

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**Weather With You**

**Chapter 2**

We're floating on tractor tubes that we've tied to the red gum. They had been sitting in the sun all afternoon, but years of practice means I know how long you need to leave them in the water before they're cool enough to sit on. It's so quiet here as we drift, at full length of the ropes as they stop us from being dragged down river by the current. It feels like there's only us, the river, the trees and the birds.

I've never been so nervous to take off my shorts and t-shirt. Ever. I normally just strip down and jump in, but the way Edward looked at me after he surfaced, nothing but his eyes and his water-darkened hair above the waterline, dragonflies were flapping around in my tummy.

We've talked about all the normal stuff: school, friends, what we do after school, and how we keep ourselves amused on weekends.

"Do you have a job?" he asks, skimming his toes in the water.

"Yeah. I work at the shop down the road on Saturday mornings and a couple of nights a week." I trail the stick I plucked from the willow tree a little way down along the surface of the water, causing tiny ripples to appear. "It probably doesn't pay much, but it's cash in hand, and living in this town is pretty cheap."

"Not much to do here?" he asks, lifting his head to look at me with one eye.

"Not really. I mean, I suppose we always find something to do, but I guess in terms of...stuff, I suppose there's not much."

"Yeah," he says. "Same in my town."

I snort. It's not particularly dainty, but neither am I. "Your town is way bigger than Forks Creek." And it is. It has, like, thousands more people than we have here.

He rolls his eye. "Just because it's bigger doesn't mean there's anything more to do."

"That's crap," I say, pulling myself into a sitting position before slipping my legs into the centre of the tube. I kick my legs under the water, thankful to cool off. "Right. Do you have movies?"

"Well, yeah…" he says slowly.

"So that's one more thing to do than here. Our nearest movie theatre is a forty-five minute drive away."

"You have a river," he counters.

"You have a river," I reply.

"Yeah," he says, "but it's too fucking cold to swim in!"

I twist my legs underwater, and the tyre spins so I'm no longer facing him. I'm not sure what it is, because Liz swears up a blue streak, but hearing Edward say that word, and the way his mouth moves around it, does things to the parts of my body that are hidden below the tyre.

"Well…" I say, but I'm flustered. "You can catch the train and be in the city in no time. I'd have to drive. For hours."

He goes quiet for a minute, then says, "I don't really go much. I mean, Dad would be okay with me going, but my mates' mums are all pretty strict."

A thought pops into my head, something Liz told me a long time ago. Edward's mum died when he was really little, and he's been raised by his dad, Carlisle, ever since. For the longest time, it's been just the two of them, but apparently last year Carlisle married somebody. I rest my chin on my hands and study Edward, which is easy to do, because he has his eyes closed and I don't have to worry about getting caught.

"What about your stepmum?" I ask tentatively. "Is she strict?"

"Esme?" He chuckles, and that crooked grin appears on his lips. "She used to be. I think living with two blokes has made her loosen up a bit." His eyes open and find mine immediately, like he knew where I was before he even opened his eyes. "She grew up in this big Catholic family. She never even swore before she met us. But last week I heard her say 'shit' when she dropped a mug in the kitchen."

"Wow," I say. "Rebellious."

He grins. "It is for her." I smile back at him, and he props himself up higher. Tilting his head a little, he says, "Your hair's nearly dry."

I reach up to feel, and just as I say, "Yeah, it is," there's a big splash, and suddenly two strong arms are around my waist and I'm pulled through the middle of the tyre.

Hands skim the bare skin between my bikini top and bottoms, just briefly, before they release me, and I kick my way to the surface. When I emerge from the water, I'm spluttering.  
"You bastard!" I shriek, and Edward gives me a mischievous grin. I splash water at him. "What was that for?"

"You looked too comfortable," he says, shaking water out of his hair. I splash him again.

"Didn't mean you had to dunk me." I dip under the water again under the pretense of getting my hair out of my face, but I really need to try to cool the inflamed skin on my face. I'd blame sunburn, but he watched me put sunscreen on earlier. When I come up, he's close to me.

"I'm sorry. That was stupid."

"It's okay," I say, blinking water away. "You just caught me by surprise."

He pauses and so do I. "Sorry."

"Stop saying sorry," I tell him.

"Sor—I mean, okay." It almost looks like he blushes a little, and that makes me smile.

"We should get out," I say, holding my fingers up. "I'm turning into a prune." "Yeah," he says, treading water. "We've been in a while. And I'm hungry."

I dip underwater again and swim towards the jetty, then use the old pool ladder Charlie found to pull myself out of the water.

I notice hands on the rails of the ladder just below mine, and my heart beats a little faster. I get out of the water as quickly as I can, because I'm sure Edward doesn't want my bum in his face, and quickly grab my towel from its position on the tree. I'm all bundled up when Edward lazily, effortlessly, pulls himself from the water, and I only look at him for a minute before I avert my eyes.

It's just as well that image has been fried into my brain, because...damn.

The water droplets covering his tanned skin catch the sunlight, making his skin glisten. His chest is broad and hairless, and his abs are deliciously defined. There's a trail of dark hair that goes from his belly button and dips below the waistband of his really, really low-slung blue boardshorts, which are wet and clinging to him in ways that make my blush impossible to avoid. As I slip my feet into my thongs, he reaches up to rub his towel through his hair. The jagged muscles ripple down his side, and I hastily pick up my shorts and singlet top, tucking my towel under my arms and shuffling back towards the house. It only takes him a minute to slip on his own thongs and walk beside me.

"Holidays are the best," he says conversationally, like my heart isn't pounding, and my face isn't flaming, and I've totally got control over any words that come out of my mouth.

"Yeah," I say, because it's all I'm able to say without sounding like a complete idiot.

"So, is your dad working tonight? Because you could probably stay for tea, if you like. I mean"—he runs his hand through his hair—"Grandma would be okay with you staying for tea, I'm sure."

"He's right." Liz meets us at the edge of the deck, and she's smiling broadly. "We're having a barbie, and Edward's cooking. I've already made enough salad." She gives me a look that makes it impossible to say no.

"Well, okay. I mean, if it's not too much trouble." I say, shuffling my feet. I glance at Edward. "You can cook?"

"I can burn shit," he says, grinning, and I laugh.

I roll my eyes, but I can't hide my smile. "Well, since you make it sound so appealing...Yeah, I'll stay. But I just want to run home and have a shower first. Is that okay?"

"No worries. See you in a bit," says Liz.

I take the long way around the house so I don't drip water all over Liz's floor, and shuffle back across the road, still clutching my clothes and towel. As soon as I get there, I realise I've left my bag back on the staircase at Liz's, so I use the spare key to let myself in.

I rinse out my bathers in the shower and hang them over the screen, and give my hair a quick wash to get the smell of the river out of it. I don't bother drying it, because it's still so hot outside it'll likely dry in five minutes flat, so I just brush the knots out of it and tie it up.

Before I head back over to Liz's, I flick on the lights on the Christmas tree, and switch the side light on, in case it's dark when I get home.

There's still bite in the sun when I wander back outside, but a slight breeze feels lovely against the back of my still-damp neck. When I arrive, I hear Liz's laugh drifting from around the back so, instead of the front door, I wander around the side. Just before I round the corner, I hear Edward's voice above the sound of the barbecue sizzling. His tone makes me stop—I don't want to intrude.

"So, um...Grandma?"

"Yes, love?"

"Does Bella have a boyfriend?"

There's a pause, just for a beat, before Liz answers. "Not that I know of."

"Oh. Okay," he says. "Just wonderin'"

Liz chuckles. "Of course you were, love."

My cheeks are well and truly burning, and I do a funny little dance while I fan them in an effort to cool them down.

"You coming in, love, or are you going to hop around there all evening?"

"Oh!" I feel my face flame to the point of incineration. "Yeah, I just...stood on a prickle."

Liz chuckles again, and I follow her up onto the deck. The table is set for three, and Edward stands at the barbecue. I smile a little at the sight of his broad shoulders because...well, because he's not bad to look at.

"Will you have a wine with me, Bella?" Liz asks, and I screw up my nose a bit.

"Or I have beer," says Edward, turning around. He points his tongs in the direction of the small fridge that sits permanently on the deck. "Help yourself."

"I'll, um...I'll have a beer. Thanks." I slide a bottle into a stubby holder and take a seat at the table, where I have a lovely view of the river...and Edward.

Liz catches me watching and gives me a look, and I hastily take a sip of my beer.

"So, working tomorrow?" says Liz.

"Yeah," I say, resting my beer on the arm of the chair. "It's going to be busy. I should be done early though, so I'll head to the Club afterwards."

"Ah." Liz leans forward slightly, and her eyes twinkle. "Maybe Edward could go with you."

"Grandma!" Edward glares at his grandmother, wide-eyed.

"What?" asks Liz, looking innocent despite the evil twinkle in her eye. "I'm sure Bella doesn't mind."

I find my voice. "Well, you could, I mean...if you like."

Edward looks at me now, and he grins. "You asking me out, Bella?"

"I—I—I…" I stammer. "I figured—"

"Relax," he says, the same twinkle in Liz's eye appearing in his. "I'm just teasing. You sure it's okay?"

I sit up a little straighter in my chair, and try to keep from looking too eager. Truth is, having spent the afternoon with this boy, he's easy to talk to and I would like the chance to spend more time with him. So I say, "Yeah, it's fine."

"Need me to drop you anywhere?" asks Liz, sipping her wine, her eyes darting from Edward, to me, to Edward again.

"Yeah, that'd be nice. Thanks." I hide my lips behind my beer to keep my smile from looking too big.

Dinner is great. Liz makes the best potato salad, and has a green salad made entirely of stuff from her garden. Edward was right—he can burn pretty much anything, but it's actually pretty tasty. After fruit salad and ice cream, Liz excuses herself to wash up, banning me and Edward from the kitchen because he cooked, and I'm a guest. Again, I laugh at that.

And now it's me and Edward, a couple of beers later, sitting beneath fairy lights and far above those, a sky full of stars. Every now and then the bug zapper buzzes, but I barely notice it—my attention is completely, squarely, on the boy who's now sitting beside me.

"See that?" he asks, pointing skyward. I lean closer to follow the line of his arm. He obviously showered when I went home to do the same, because he smells clean and fresh, and like something that makes my stomach flip in the best ways.

"There?" I ask, pointing.

"Almost." He touches my arm, and my skin tingles. "There."

"Oh." I look to where he's pointing. "Yeah?"

"Gemini," he says. He turns his face towards mine, and he's so, so close. "My birthday."

He smells like beer, but not enough to drown out his scent. With my slightly foggy head, I decide one thing for sure—he smells better.

"June?" I ask.

He nods. "When's yours?"

"September," I say, and it's barely above a whisper.

"What sign's that?" he asks.

I giggle. "You're asking my star sign? Very sixties of you."

"Well?" he asks. He might lean closer. It might be me.

"Virgo," I reply, and again, I blush.

"Ah," he says.

"Edward?" Liz's voice calls through the screen door, and I lean back.

"Yeah?"  
"Walk Bella home, would you? I want to make sure she gets home safe."

I giggle. "Liz, I live across the road."

"Humour me," she says. "'Night."

"'Night," Edward and I chorus.

I lean my head back against the high back of the chair. "Your grandma is the best."

In the dim light, I see Edward smile. "Yeah, she's cool."

We sit, in the dark and the quiet, and it feels like we're the only ones around. Liz's neighbours, although not too far away, have gone away for the holidays, and across the street, my house is empty. So it's just us, the mozzies, the odd Christmas beetle latching on to our clothes, and the river.

"You're sure it's okay if I come tomorrow night?"

I nod. "Yeah. My friends are pretty cool. I mean, they're my friends. It'll just be a fairly laid-back night. Some mates, a few drinks. Not too many, because backing up on Christmas Day? Yeah...nah."

He kind of chuckles. "Can't imagine worse, really." "That reminds me," I say. "You're coming for Christmas?"

Edward nods slowly. "Yeah. Grandma's cooking lots of stuff tomorrow, I think."

I giggle. "She always brings more than she needs to."

"She does love to cook," he says.

"So…" I draw the word out. "We've hung out all day, you're coming out tomorrow night, and you're having Christmas lunch with us. Sure you won't be sick of me?"

Edward's voice is low when he answers. "Not likely."

Later, much, much later when Edward walks me home just as Liz requested, the backs of our hands brush together. Maybe if I'd had one more beer, I'd be able to work up the nerve to turn my hand around so our hands join.

But I didn't. So I don't.

That doesn't mean I don't really, really want to.

One of the best things about holidays, is that you wake up whenever you want to. I love holidays—I don't have to get up to an alarm, my dad isn't knocking on my door, telling me to get my bum out of bed and get ready for school. So when my phone starts ringing obnoxiously next to my head, I'm less than impressed. I answer it without even looking at the display, and my greeting with my face smooshed into the pillow sounds something like, "mrmphllo?"

"Did I wake you?" Ange's voice sounds concerned.

"Mmmmyes."

"Want me to let you sleep?" she asks.

I snuggle into the covers, which is just a sheet. "Nah. I probably should get up." I think about that for a half-second. "Wait, what time is it?"

"It's quarter past twelve."

"I really should get up then." I stretch out, wriggling my toes. "What's up?"

"Not much," says Ange. "I'm avoiding my brothers. They're playing the 'Is it Christmas yet?' game."

"What's that?" I ask. I wonder if this is something I need to know about.

"It's a game where they ask me, 'Is it Christmas yet?' every five seconds until I get so pissed off I punch one of them. It's like 'Are We There Yet?', but the festive version."

"Sounds terrible," I mumble, slowly waking up.

"It is." Ange sighs. "It's better when they're fighting. They avoid each other, so they don't speak. The house is so much quieter."

"Why do they do it?" I ask, mostly because I'm not awake and I can't process much.

"They want me to take them to the pool," Ange says, and I can hear her little brothers shouting in the background. The sound is muffled—I'm guessing she's hiding out in her room. "Can I come over for a bit?"

"Yeah," I say, pulling myself into a sitting position. "I need to have a shower and eat something. Let yourself in if I don't answer, 'kay?"

"Sensational," says Ange. "See you soon."

I have a super-quick shower and when my best friend arrives, I'm sitting at the bench eating toast with vegemite and reading the local paper.

"Hello?" I hear the sliding screen door open, and Ange's voice drifts through the house.

"Come in," I tell her, although I know she's already on her way. "Cuppa?" I ask as she rounds the corner, but she lifts a bottle of Coke.

"I'm good." She takes a stool across the bench from me. "You go out last night?"  
"No," I answer quickly. "Well, not out, out. I just had dinner at Liz's."

Ange takes a sip from her bottle, absently tapping the lid on the bench top. "And what, she kept you up 'til nine-thirty?"

I think about where I was at nine-thirty, and who I was with, and I bite into my toast with a grin and try to focus on the newspaper in front of me.

"Wait...wait…" There's a reason Ange is my best friend—we've known each other for ages, and we've been best friends the whole time. A sneaky grin breaks out across her face. "There's something you're not telling me…"

I seriously hope once I'm all grown up and living out in the world on my own, I can get through life without this freaking blush giving me away. "Um…"

"Shut up!" yells Ange. "Who were you with? Did you go out after Liz's?"

I trace the pattern on the plate with my crust. "No...but Liz's grandson is visiting...and we had a couple of beers and were just kind of talking, and…" I look at my best friend, and I can't help but giggle. "He's just really nice."

"Let me see," says Ange, her eyes shining. "Is this boy also nice to look at?"

Edward's bright, green eyes flash before me, and I think about his messy hair and the way it went darker when he was wet with river water, and how the water droplets—

"He is!" Ange is on her feet now. She laughs maniacally and beats her fists on the bench, and then she sits down on her stool again, leaning forward toward me. "Tell me everything!"  
And I do. I tell her about hands sticky with peach juice, and swimming in the river and floating and talking for hours. I tell her about the way he burns sausages, and how every time during dinner when I looked at him, I caught his eyes on me for the briefest of moments. I tell her about sitting beneath the stars, and that he's smart. And I tell her that by total fluke, we're spending three days in a row together and that he's cool with that.

"Of course he is," she says, after taking in the whole story. "He sounds seriously interested."

I shrug. "We just met yesterday…"

"Yeah, but fate," she says emphatically, because Ange reads her star sign every day and believes in all that. That makes me think of constellations in the sky, and I smile again, before I try to bring her back to earth.

"One day, Ange. I've known him one day."

She waves me off. "Can I meet him?"

"Tonight," I say, getting up from my stool and heading to the sink to load the dishwasher. "He's coming to the Club. Liz is going to drop us off after I finish work."

"Excellent!" she says, clapping. "I can't wait!"

I roll my eyes good-naturedly as I turn back to her. "So what do you want to do? I have to work in a couple of hours, so I probably don't have time to watch a movie."

"I don't mind," she says, shrugging. "I'm happy just hanging out, otherwise I have to take my brothers to the pool."

A thought occurs to me. "How'd you get here?"

"Mum," she says. "Think she took pity on me. The boys have been at me for days. Would you be able to drop me off on your way to work?"

"No worries," I tell her. "TV?"

"Yep."

We sit in the air-conditioned lounge room, chatting and watching whatever Christmas shows are on. Every now and then, Ange will ask me a question—Where's Edward from? Where did he go to school? What does he want to do next year?—and she points out that most of the suggestions he made for courses he wanted to do and unis they were at were the same unis that I'd picked.

"Hmm," I say, non-committally and not taking my eyes from the sitcom that's on TV. "Do you think it's weird?" I ask.

"What? That you and Edward have picked most of the same universities?"

"No," I say, pointing at the TV. "That on the other side of the world, Christmas like that is normal? Snow and stuff?"

"And here, we have forty-something days and bushfires instead of snow storms?" She cocks her head a little to the side. "I guess it is a little. I suppose it's just whatever you're used to."

"Yeah," I reply. "I guess you're right. It'd be kind of fun, though."

"Snow?" Ange shakes her head. "Nup. I'm happy with the heat."

I laugh. The ski trip we had to take with school in year ten nearly killed her. "Right. Not a snow bunny."

"Nuh-uh," she says, shaking her head harder. "Give me heat any day."

The day seems to fly by and before I know it, I'm dropping Ange off outside her house, where her brothers are squirting each other with the hose and shouting at me, "Is it Christmas yet, Bella?" When I pull away, I have to laugh as Ange makes a dash for the house, but ends up drenched before she reaches the front door.

I park my truck in the side-street by the shop, because the street is full—apparently everybody has decided to come here and do their last-minute shopping on Christmas Eve...because having the shops closed for a couple of days over Christmas Day and Boxing Day must surely mean the end of the world. As I walk through the front door, I notice Dale has put the "Total Fire Ban" sign up in the window.

"Bella!" Emmett's voice hits me as soon as I walk into the shop. "You rolled me, mate!"

"What do you mean?" I ask, slipping behind the counter and setting up at the rarely-used second register.

"You're bailing early! I'm going to have to play catch-up!" He briefly turns his attention away to serve a customer, and I do the same.

When we get a lull and time enough to talk again, which isn't for almost an hour, he heads for the fridge. "Drink?" he asks.

"Thanks," I reply, and I say it again when he hands me a bottle of lemon squash. "Sorry I messed your plans," I say with a grin.

He rolls his eyes. "Mum would've made me stay late anyway. She felt bad enough that she asked you to come in on Christmas Eve."  
"I don't mind," I reply, pulling a straw out of the holder and taking a sip of my drink. I gesture to the still-busy shop. "Good thing I did."

"I guess it's bad enough that the shop's closed tomorrow," says Emmett. "But it's worse because it's a Fire Ban day. All the punters are freaking out that they can't cook their barbecues and that they're going to get evacuated and stuff."

I nod seriously. He's got a point—we had some really bad bushfires not too far from here a few years ago. People are still ultra-careful when it comes to bushfire season. It was pretty scary, and every time there's a fire out of town now, it makes me nervous—most of the guys in my year are in the CFA, Emmett included, and Charlie usually helps out at the management centre. A selfish part of me is happier that my dad is there rather than on the front line.

The shop gets busy again, and it's all hands on deck—Dale is out the back, bagging ice as quickly as we can sell it, and Vera comes in to give us a hand. I'm finishing the last of my drink when Vera taps me on the shoulder, holding way more cash than I normally make.

"A little bonus," she says with a smile. "Happy Christmas, Bella."

I give her a hug. "Thank you. You too, Vera."

With a pat on my arm, she heads towards the back door. I pull out my keys and bag from beneath the counter, and Emmett sighs dramatically.

"I'll be out of here soon too, I hope," he says. "Club?"

My heart skips—I've barely had time to think since I've been here, and the thought of seeing Edward again gives me jitters. "Yeah. I'll probably be there in about an hour or so."

"I think we're going to close up about then," says Emmett, grinning. "I won't be far behind you." I hear Dale's cheerful voice coming from the back of the shop, and Emmett shoos me towards the door. "Go! Before he makes you stay!"

"I'm gone!" I say, getting out as quickly as I can. "Catch you later!"

Any response he gives me is lost as I skip towards my car, feeling light and excited about having a couple of days off, and the simple fact that it's Christmas Eve. I'm still skipping when I go into my house, and head out on to the back deck. The air is rich with the smell of Aeroguard and citronella, and a couple of Eskys are set up beside chairs. I say a quick hi to Charlie and his mates who look like they're settled in for the evening on the back deck.

I shower quickly and make myself presentable, and give Charlie a quick kiss on the cheek as I say goodbye. As always, he tells me to stay out of trouble—like I've ever been in any—and I make my way over to Liz's, grateful she's left the light on for me in the waning summer light. When I arrive at the front door something makes me stop, and I do something I pretty much never do—I knock.

Through the stained glass of the door, I see a figure moving towards me, and I know from his height and the easy way he moves, that it's Edward. The door opens, and he's standing, fresh-smelling and in a navy-blue collared shirt and jeans. I can't decide if he looks better shirtless, or the way he looks now. I'll think about it over a few beers.

"Ready to go?" he says, grinning crookedly. His eyes shift down my body ever so briefly, and I beg my blush to stay away.

"Yeah," I say, feeling shy. "Should we get Liz?" He holds up a set of keys. "Nah. She said we could take her car. She's happy for me to pick it up in the morning if we have a few."

"Oh," I say, surprised. "Well, okay."

"Shall we?" he asks, holding out an elbow gallantly. I take it, and this time, my blush is out again.

"We shall," I reply with a giggle.  
Edward turns his head over his shoulder and calls into the house. "Bye, Grandma!"  
I hear footsteps, and Liz appears at the bottom of the stairs. "Have fun, you two."

Giving her a little wave, I follow Edward's lead to Liz's car. He opens the door for me, and I thank him, feeling a bit overwhelmed—the boys I know think Manners is just the bloke who coaches the Forks Creek Thirds in the footy.

As Edward steers us back into town, then down the main street to where the Club is, he asks which of my friends will be there. I watch his hand on the gearstick.

"Most of the people from my year," I tell him. "Well, the ones that are over eighteen at least."

"Cool," he says, glancing in the rearvision mirror. "So, just your girlfriends? Or…"

"Nah," I say. "Just about everyone will be there. It's kind of tradition, people go every year, although this is the first year I've been." I point to the lesser-used entry to the Club's smaller carpark. "Head in there. I reckon the main carpark will be full."

Edward follows my directions, and we find a park easily. He locks the doors after we park, and we make our way towards the entrance, our shoes crunching on the gravel.

We're carded on the way in, even though the guys on the door know my dad really well and that I'm eighteen, and we cut through the pokies to the bar where the band plays.

"What'll you have?" I ask Edward, conscious that he's standing close to me at the bar. "My shout."

"Draught, thanks," he says, leaning on the bar. I get the same, and we look around for a table. Just as I spot one, a voice calls to me from the opposite direction. "Bella! Over here!"

I turn around and wave back, a smile plastered on my face. It's Alice, who I've known forever. She's pretty popular, but there's something about her I don't trust. I've heard the way she backstabs the other girls when they're not around, so I can only imagine what she says about me.

"Come on," I say to Edward, and we wander over. Alice bounces to my side and gives me a big hug and air-kiss. She smells like vodka raspberry and too much perfume.

"Who's he?" she asks in my ear. "He's cute."

"Guys," I say to everyone at table. "This is Edward. Edward, this is Alice." She giggles, and I continue my introductions. "And that's Rosie, Mick, Jess, Rick, Jake, Tay, Loz, and Sambo."

Everyone says hi, and Alice grabs me by the arm. "Come sit near me. We haven't caught up in ages."

Edward and I pull up a couple of chairs and take a seat. I'm barely sitting down when Alice leans over and whispers in my ear.

"I'm going to pick up Edward. Just so you know." She leans back and winks at me, like I'm her wingman or something.

I glance at Edward, and he grins at me before turning to Sambo where they start talking cricket. And when Alice leans over me to try to join in their conversation, although she knows as much about cricket as I do about astrophysics, she purposely squashes her boobs. And when I see that they caught Edward's attention, I feel like a stone has settled in my stomach.

"Switch seats," she says to me. "I don't want to talk over you." She giggles. "It's rude."

Edward throws me a look, but I switch seats with her anyway, moving to sit next to Rosie. I like Rosie, but she spends most of her time trying to make sure Alice isn't gossiping about her. Where Alice is likely to marry a local boy and have kids in no time, Rosie is smart. I hope she gets out of town and away from the likes of Alice Brandon.

"All ready for Christmas?" she asks. "You've got heaps of people coming, yeah?"

I nod. "Yeah. All good. Everyone's bringing stuff, so it shouldn't be too much trouble." I take a sip of my beer and glare at Alice, who is fawning over Edward. "Are you guys going away?"

Rosie nods, and glances at her watch. "Heading up north in the morning. We're going to my nanna's. It's going to be mental—there's going to be about a million cousins and aunts and stuff there."

As Rosie talks, she chances a couple of looks over my shoulder. I smile. "Waiting for somebody?"

"What? No..." Rosie says quickly, but I wonder differently.

"So, Emmett should be here soon. His parents were making him work late." I check the time on my phone. "Should be here any minute, I reckon."

Rosie's cheeks pink, and she smiles as she sips from her G and T. She and Emmett have been dancing circles around each other for ages. I've wondered many times if the pretty blonde sitting next to me has anything to do with Emmett deferring uni this last year. Just then, I hear Emmett's voice, and Rosie walks over to give him a hug.

I finish my beer and set it on the table, suddenly feeling a little awkward as Alice continues to giggle and put her paws all over Edward. It makes me feel a little bit better when he shifts away from her a bit, and when she shoves her chair closer, he stands up and holds his bottle up to me.

"My shout, Bella."

I smile and nod, and watch him walk towards the bar.

"How do you know him?" asks Jess, shifting into Rosie's vacant seat.

"He's staying with my neighbour, Liz. He's her grandson," I say, my gaze flicking in his direction. He's leaning casually on the bar, waiting to be served, and he catches me looking and grins.

Jess giggles. "He's so into you," she says, then lowers her voice. "But keep him away from Alice. She'll chase anything that can piss standing up."

I laugh, because she's right. We chat about what we've been doing with our holidays, then Jess stands up abruptly. "Here, Edward," she says. "You sit here. I need to grab a drink."

"Thanks," says Edward, grinning at Jess. She gives me a wide-eyed look and mouths, _oh, my God_, before grabbing Alice with the excuse of the ladies room.

"Here y'go." Edward passes me a beer as he sits down. "Looks like we're not driving home, then."

"It's okay," I say, taking a sip. "There's a courtesy bus. I probably can't be out 'til all hours anyway."

"Ah yes," says Edward, leaning back in his chair and slinging his arm across the back of mine. "The great feast. I'm looking forward to it."

I roll my eyes. "Everyone's contributing."

"Yes," he says, winking and lifting his bottle. "I'm bringing beer."

"Of course." I smile, because there's something about the way he just is that makes me want to. I glance up to see Alice making a beeline for us. "Your mate's back."

"Fuck," he says lowly. "She's a bit much." I laugh, because he's known her five minutes...and she is. I'm about to suggest, I don't know, anything, when he suddenly grabs my bottle from my hand and sets it on the table.

"Hey," I say. "I only took a sip."

"Fuck it, I'll buy you another one. Besides, this gives me an excuse." He grabs my hand, and pulls us in the direction of the band, and past Alice. "Dance with me."

And as he pulls me towards the dance floor, I give Alice a knowing look. If anybody's going to be picking up this boy tonight, it's going to be me.

* * *

**A/N**: thank you for reading! Please leave a review? Hospitals suck, and it'll help keep me sane in this place :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thank you to TwiSNfan for pre reading and forever giving me the confidence to post. Thanks and love to Astrosport2009, who waved her pretty, sparkly beta-wand over it and fixed my pain-medication-induced comma frenzy, and pointed out a couple of things that made this story just that bit sweeter. Thank you to Jaime Arkin for gifting me one of her super-special banners. It's summery and perfect for this story.

Definitions are at the bottom if you want to dive down there first.

Oh, yes...Happy New Year!

* * *

**Weather With You **

**Chapter 3**

There's many a story about the way Aussie boys dance. Mostly, the gist of it is that they can't. They just kind of jump around, thrashing their hands. Or they do the sprinkler. But that isn't the case with Edward—at all.

As the night goes on and the dance floor fills, we're forced to dance closer together. His body moves like no-one else's on the dance floor. And when my friends join us, he moves closer again. I'm hyper-aware of when Alice joins us, because he puts a hand on my waist, or leans in to say something in my ear. It's all completely pointless from a perspective of putting Alice off—she's found some random tourist and is grinding unashamedly against him.

I lift my hair from the back of my neck in an attempt to get some air. Edward, still right beside me, leans in to speak to me. The sensation of his breath on my skin gives me goosebumps.

"Wanna grab a drink?"

As the night has worn on and more alcohol has been consumed, I've switched out with soft drink and managed to keep my wits about me. There's no way I'm dealing with a bunch of people tomorrow if I've got a hangover. Plus, Charlie is the king of hangover hell. So yeah...nah.

"I think I need some water," I say. "If I have another beer, I'm going to feel like shit in the morning."

He grasps my arm gently. "Come on. I'll buy you a water."

"Big spender," I say teasingly.

We get a couple of big glasses of water filled with ice, and find a seat back at our original table. A couple of people have gone home, and the others are dancing. Except for Alice—she's now pashing the tourist over near the pokies.

"She do that a lot?" asks Edward, following my gaze.

"What? Pick up randoms?" I ask, swirling my straw through the ice. "More when it's rubberneck season." Edward shoots me a confused look, so I continue. "You know," I say, popping a piece of ice into my mouth and having to move quickly to stop it slipping back out of my mouth. "Tourist season. When all the holidaymakers come in, because she knows they won't stay long."

"Huh," he says, taking a gulp of his water. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Even that's appealing after a couple of beers.

"She told me she wanted to pick you up tonight," I say, because, well, I've got a few drinks in me. And it seems I get chatty when I have a few beers in me.

He shakes his head and looks down at his glass, catching a bead of condensation on the outside of it with his finger. "Nah..."

"She did!" I say, because apparently I _can't shut up_. "And she would've."

His gaze lifts to meet mine, and he stares at me intently. His voice is almost cold. "No. She wouldn't've."

"O-kay…" I say slowly.

"Wanna head off?" asks Edward, gulping the rest of his water and setting his glass down.

"Um, yep. Okay." I try to drink mine just as quickly, but end up giving myself a brain freeze. I grab my bag and say a quick goodbye to the others, and Edward does the same.

"How you getting home?" asks Jess when I give her a quick hug and wish her Happy Christmas.

"Courtesy bus," I say, hooking my thumb over my shoulder as if that's where the bus is.

"Um, you missed it," says Jess, pointing at the clock. "Last one left about fifteen minutes ago. Didn't you hear the announcement?"

"Fuck it," I say, scowling. I follow her gaze to the clock above the bar, and I slump my shoulders.

"Ah, we can walk it," says Edward, grinning with all the confidence of a man who's sober enough to walk, but drunk enough to think he can walk anywhere.

"But…" I bite my bottom lip. "D'ya think it's a bit far?"

Edward grins at me. "Anywhere's walking distance if you've got long enough." He grins. "Besides, it'll give us a chance to sober up a bit."

I think about it—chances of getting a taxi in this town are slim anyway, because there's only five. Those chances take a dramatic nosedive during this time of year. "Righto. Let's go then."

The air is still warm when we leave the Club, and I figure it must be still in the high twenties. I twist my hair up into a knot on top of my head, fanning myself. When Edward walks towards the entrance where we parked the car, I drop my hair and grab his arm, steering him in a different direction. "This way."

He shrugs, but follows. "This is your stomping ground."

We follow a path away from the Club, moving towards the sound of running water. "Where are you taking me?" asks Edward.

"Short cut," I reply. We walk for a few minutes until we come to a tall brick wall and a gate. I grin as I shove the gate—my mum and dad used to bring me here when I was little. I used to think it was a secret garden. I suppose it still holds some of that magic for me.

Our feet barely make a sound as we walk along the concrete path, and the sound of water gets louder. The streetlights in the distance are dimmed here, the light blocked by the sweet-scented climbing plants that cover the arbour. Roses, jacaranda, and other sweet-smelling flowers that Liz told me the name of, but I forgot, perfume the warm night air, and if I close my eyes, I can imagine I'm in some warm, fuzzy, sweet-smelling cloud. Cool mist hits my face as we come out of the arbour and into the vicinity of the fountain that sits in the middle of the garden.

"It's quiet here," says Edward in a hushed tone. "I mean, this whole town is quiet, but right here, it's _really_ quiet."

"I know," I say, barely above a whisper.

Edward walks over to the fountain, which stands proudly in its circular, white concrete bowl, and skims his fingers across the top of the water. He stops to dip both hands in, scooping up a handful of water and pouring it over his head. He shakes the excess out of his hair, and large drops spray me across my singlet top.

"Sorry," he says, grinning.

"Nah, you're not," I retort, smiling back.

His eyes wander south for a moment. "Nah, I'm not," he echoes.

Walking over to the fountain, I scoop some water up and run it over my bare arms. It provides a little relief from the heat. I splash a bit on my face, and that helps more, and then some on the back of my neck. Droplets run down my chest and down my back. "Come on, we better keep going."

Edward watches me intently. "Yep."

"Come on, then," I tell him, and walk around the fountain and off down another path.

"How do you know which one to go down?" he asks, turning to look back at the other three as we walk.

"Done this a few times," I say. "This is the quickest way to Ange's by bike, although the Club's gardener used to get pretty pissed off at us for riding our bikes through here."

"Bet you used to get up to a bit of trouble," says Edward, falling into step beside me on the narrow path.

"Nah," I reply. "Bit hard to do when you're a copper's daughter."

"S'pose so," says Edward. "Was that hard?"

"Staying out of trouble?" I ask. Edward rushes to the gate that will get us out of the garden and holds it for me. I smile my thanks as I pass. "Nah. Pretty easy. I was probably a bit of a nerd at school."

Edward smiles. "I can imagine that."

"Hey!" I say indignantly, pouting.

"What?" says Edward, and when I look at him, he's wearing a cheeky grin. "I just mean you were probably good at school. Doesn't make you a nerd." He kicks at a bit of gravel on the path. "I was probably the same."

"Can I ask you something?" I ask, struck by the sudden need to know.

Edward's tone is serious. "Yeah. 'Course."

"You said earlier, about Alice. And her picking you up." I flush, both grateful to the beer for giving me a bit of courage, and hating it for removing my verbal filter. "You said she wouldn't've."

"Wouldn't happen," says Edward like it's fact. "I'm not interested."

"Oh," I say.

He grabs a leaf from a tree as we pass. "Besides, she's not my type."

My nose wrinkles in confusion. I thought Alice was everyone's type. "Oh."

He tugs at the end of my ponytail and grins. "Not a fan of short hair." As his fingers trail through my ponytail, I feel my cheeks heat up and I wish I was back at the fountain again.

We walk in silence for a bit through some back streets, before heading back out onto the main road. The main part of town is pretty much dead, and it's likely to stay that way for the next few days. I know Dale is opening up on Boxing Day morning, but that'll only be to do the papers, and he's not making any of us work. I secretly think he doesn't want to pay us holiday pay. Tightarse.

"That was my school," I say as we pass the generic chain link fence that is the same on all country schools. "And that's the shop we used to get our lunches from."

Edward chuckles. "You're going to give me the tour of your town?"

I shrug. "Don't have to."

"No," he says hurriedly. "It's fine. It's interesting."

It probably isn't the most mature thing to do, but I drop my bottom lip a little anyway. "You're lying."

"I pay attention," he says, pointing across the street. "That's where you work."

Glancing at him, I notice that he's smiling. "You're right."

"That's where I saw you first," he continues. "You were just knocking off."

"When?" I ask, because I would've remembered. As he speaks, it comes back to me.

"Just yesterday. Before you came over to Grandma's. Your boss was asking you to work the extra shift."

"You heard all that?" I ask, letting my fingers trail lightly across the fence beside the footpath.

"Yep," he says, nodding firmly. "I did."

"Hmm..." I take about half a dozen more steps before I stop dead. "But if that's the shop, that means we're only halfway home. And we've been walking for"—I check my watch—"nearly an hour!"

"We're not exactly setting any land speed records, Bella," says Edward teasingly.

I'm a grown woman. Well, I'm eighteen, and I'm old enough to drink, and buy cigarettes, and drive a car, and vote. But I do it anyway—I have a whinge. "But it's going to take _aaaages_ to get home!"

Edward shakes his head, but I can see him smiling. He moves in front of me and turns his back, crouching down a little. Well, a lot more than a little. "Hop on. I'll give you a piggyback."

I shake my head. "I'll hurt you."

"You won't," he says, cocking his head. "You're hardly a heifer. Come on. Up you get."

Groaning, both from embarrassment and a little disbelief, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hop on. He catches my thighs below the knees, and gives me a little boost to make us both more comfortable.

"Off we go!" he says, starting to walk again.

"Mmhmm," I murmur. I tuck my face into the back of his head, breathing in his scent at the back of his neck. "This is a bit embarrassing."

"It's not," he says. "Besides, there's nobody here to see. Look around. You could shoot a cannon down the main street and you wouldn't hit anything. Everyone's already at home, tucked in bed waiting for Santa."

I don't have to look, because I know he's right. There's nothing but the yellow-wash of the street lights, and quiet, empty roads.

Resting my chin on Edward's shoulder, I sigh. "I think I'm going to miss it here."

"When you move to the city?" he asks, turning his head slightly.

"Yeah," I say.

"I know what you mean," he says, the rhythm of his footsteps bouncing us both. "I mean, I know Port Mary's bigger than here, but everyone I know is there. And it'll be weird not to be near my dad."

"Where do you want to live?" I ask. "I mean, do you want to live on campus, or get a flat or something?"

It seems like he thinks about it for a moment. "Dunno," he says. "I mean, I could probably get into College pretty easy at Melbourne because my dad lived there. He's still pretty active in the alumni—he goes and talks at functions and stuff. But I kind of wanna see if I can do it on my own, y'know? Find a sharehouse or something. Rather than just be another Doctor Cullen."

"You want to do med?" I ask, a little in awe. I knew he was smart, but I didn't know medicine was on the cards.

He shrugs, despite the weight of me across his shoulders. "My dad would love me to be a doctor. It's one of my preferences. But I think I'd like something like physio more." He blows out a breath, and when I ask if I'm too heavy, he says I'm not. "I changed my preferences. After we got our results. I had med first, and then I changed it. I want to do physio."

"And you haven't told your dad?" I ask, keeping my voice low. The night is so still and quiet, and I'm sober enough to figure anybody with open windows can hear our conversation.

"I haven't told anyone," he says, just as quietly. "Except you." He leans his head, pressing our cheeks together. "You're the only one who knows."

"Wow," I say, the word coming out with my breath.

"It's weird," he says, hitching me higher again. "But I feel like I've known you a whole lot longer than just a couple of days. I mean, Grandma talks about you all the time. And every time I came to stay with her, your house was right across the road."

"You sure you're not just drunk?" I ask with a giggle.

From my position, I can see his cheeks lift—he's grinning. "Maybe a bit. But I feel like I can trust you, too."

"You can," I tell him. I turn my head to press my nose behind his ear. "I won't tell anyone."

He shivers. "Thanks."

Edward walks us for a bit longer, and when we reach the path across the creek, I tell him to let me down. A chill runs through me, not having Edward's body warmth against my chest. When my feet touch the ground, my right leg seems to have fallen asleep, so my knee buckles. Edward catches me before I completely fall on the ground.

"Ta," I say, hyper-aware that he's still holding me.

He helps set me on my feet. "No worries."

I look up at him. The night sky is clear of clouds and full of stars, and the moon is the perfect streetlight for this part of town. "We're nearly there. Not far now."

He smiles. "I've enjoyed the walk."

"Me too," I say genuinely, and I smile back.

We cross the creek using the little footbridge that probably should've fallen down years ago, and walk back towards the road that will take us home. The backs of our hands brush against each other, just like they did when he walked me home from Liz's the other night. But this time, he captures my hand mid-swing, engulfing it in his. When I glance up at him, he's still looking ahead, but I can see him smiling.

We hold hands all the way home, and when he, again, walks me to my front door, he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "Merry Christmas, Bella."

_._._._._._

I wake to the sound of my radio playing "Six White Boomers", and if I listen hard enough, I can hear kids squealing in the streets through my open bedroom window.

Stretching out, I do a quick hangover check and am happy to see that I pass. Drinking lots of water appears to have paid off, and the walk home last night probably helped too. And that walk makes me smile—well, more so the sweet guy who walked me home. Again.

As we stood on the front porch, a little awkwardly I have to admit, I really wanted to kiss him. Or him to kiss me. But when it comes down to it, I'm pretty shy. I've had a few drunken kisses at parties and stuff during the year, but maybe it has something to do with being the Sarge's daughter—most guys tend to keep their distance. Which is fairly frustrating.

But today, who knows? Maybe we'll get caught under mistletoe or something. Not that I even know what mistletoe is. Or what it looks like. So when I think about it...that could be a problem.

A gentle knock on my bedroom door sounds and I sit up, bringing the covers with me. "Come in."

"'Mornin'," says Charlie, peeking his head around the corner. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Dad." I want to give him a hug, but I'm braless...and that would be weird.

"I'm just going to go fire up the Weber," says Charlie, hooking his thumb in the general direction of the backyard. "And I'll get the barbie going. Roast should be done 'round 2 then."

"Sounds good," I say, running a hand through my hair and wrinkling my nose when I catch a whiff of the smell of beer. Must've been when I got bumped into on the dancefloor. "I'm just gonna jump in the shower, then one present, right?"

"No worries." My dad starts to back towards the door. "Leave you to it, then."

"Cool." I grab my dressing gown and make a beeline for the shower, feeling heaps better when the smell of alcohol is gone from my skin and hair. I change into shorts and a red t-shirt and wander into the lounge room. Charlie's sitting next to the tree, holding a red and green wrapped present in his hands.

"Hang on. I'll grab yours." I kneel beneath the tree and dig around until I find the present I picked for this morning. It's become a sort of tradition for me and Charlie—we have the big present-opening session after roast, but before pudding, but we like to give each other something before the place turns into a madhouse. Once I find the one I'm looking for, I give him a kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas, Dad."

"You too, love." I hand Dad his present and he tears into it straight away. He chuckles as he opens the box, finding the envelope inside. When he realises what it is, his voice raises in pitch. "Oh! Bloody fantastic, love!"

"I thought you'd like the chance to see some bigger games than the ones at the Oval in town. It's a country membership, so that'll get you into five home games. And you get priority to finals, too." I smile at the look on his face—he's as excited as I've ever seen him as he flicks through the booklet that holds his season pass to the footy. "And I might be able to give you a place to crash, depending on where I'm living."

At that, Dad's face looks like it's about to crumble, before he schools his features into his standard Charlie expression. He holds out the present to me. "Here y'go."

It's not a particularly big box, but it rattles when I shake it. I carefully unwrap the paper and the box tells me it's jewellery. But the rattle doesn't sound like jewellery...

I lift the lid, and sitting on a bed of cotton wool is a key. I lift it out and look at it quizzically, before shifting my gaze to Charlie's reddened face.

"It's a fake one for now; we won't get the real one for a couple of weeks when settlement happens."

"Settlement?" I ask. "What settlement?"

Charlie absently scratches the rough skin on his chin. "Nanna left some money that came with strict instructions. She wanted me to buy an investment property, but she wanted to choose the tenant."

I look down at the key in the box and stroke it with my finger. Figures—Nanna Swan was a tough old bird. She liked to be in control of everything, and I can completely imagine her putting such a stipulation on something like that.

"So...she wants me to watch the place?"

Charlie chuckles. "Bells, she wants you to live in it. You're the tenant. She left instructions that after you got your results, I should pick a place in the same area you'd be studying in. It's a great little place—it's got two bedrooms, a garage, a little backyard for you to put a barbie in—"

"Wait," I interrupt. "My Christmas present is a house?"

He shrugs. "Well, it's more like a unit. Or a townhouse. I probably should've checked with you first, but it's a great place, it's in a safe location, you can catch the tram to uni—whichever one you choose to go to. You could live there by yourself, but I'd be much happier if a girlfriend moved in. You know, someone from town."

I look up at my dad, and I can barely see through the tears in my eyes. "Dad, this is...it's too much."

"Bulldust," says Charlie with a wave of his hand. "It's what she wanted, and it's what I want. I've spoken to your mother, and she agrees." He slaps his hands on his thighs. "So. That's that."

I scramble across the floor and throw myself into my dad's lap, hugging him tightly around the neck. "Thank you, Dad. And thanks to Nanna Swan."

"She wanted you to do well," he says. "And she wanted to make sure you'd always be looked after." He pats my back awkwardly, and I pull back. "And I need to know you'll be safe up there in the Big City."

He takes the box from me and turns over the clear plastic key tag attached to the key. There's an address written on the back. "It's still listed online in the sold section, so you can go look it up. But be quick about it, would ya?" I glance at him, and he's grinning. "You've got a pav to decorate for me."

As I stand up and head for the kitchen, I'm completely overwhelmed. Nanna Swan has essentially made it so I have a clear run through uni, accommodation-wise. As I'm whipping cream, I'm already mentally choosing colours for my new bedroom, and as I load the pavlova with raspberries, blueberries, peaches, strawberry, and mango, I'm thinking about having friends over for grown-up dinner parties and beers while we watch the footy. As I wander out to pick a passionfruit from the vine draping across the deck, I imagine catching up for a beer with my friends after uni. And as I make room for the colourfully-decorated pavlova in the fridge, I smile to myself because I won't be inviting the likes of Alice Brandon.

I work steadily all morning, peeling potatoes, par-boiling them, and tossing them in parmesan and salt before setting them in the oven to roast. This also means it's time to crank up the air con to combat the heat from the oven, so I do that, too. Charlie keeps checking on the roast and the turkey, which are both cooking away in the Weber and the barbecue, and making smells so delicious, I'm sure the neighbours will all be jealous.

I give the kitchen a final tidy-up and Charlie blasts the outdoor furniture with the pressure washer, and once I'm satisfied with the table decorations and pretty lights strung around the deck, I tell Charlie I'm off to get ready.

When I open my wardrobe, I stand there like a stunned mullet. I originally thought I'd wear a cute t-shirt and a pair of shorts, but now I'm second guessing myself. Sifting through my drawers, it's now clear that none of my pre-defined choices are going to cut it. And I could try convincing myself it's because we're having guests...but most of these guests have known me most of my life, and even the ones who haven't are used to seeing me in a wide range of stuff.

I flick through the meagre rack of dresses I own. I'm not a big wearer of dresses. Even school didn't have a compulsory dress as part of the uniform—it was way too impractical for all the girls who used to ride their bikes to school. As I sort through, there's the dress I wore to Nanna Swan's funeral, and the thought of the key that's sitting on my bedside table gives me jitters.

Eventually I settle on a dress I wore to Rosie's 18th birthday party a few months back. It's red, light, and summery, and I wear it with a set of big blue beads I bought on my last trip to Melbourne with Ange. I even put on a pair of wedge heels...although I seriously doubt they'll last the day. Chances are they'll come off in time for the great annual backyard cricket game later in the afternoon.

"Bells!" I hear my dad call. "The Clearwaters are here!"

"Coming!" I give my eyelashes a quick swipe with mascara and dab a bit of paw paw cream on my lips—because let's face it, anything else will have slid off my face by the time the roast comes out of the Weber—and head for the kitchen, silently enjoying the feel of my dress swishing around my freshly-shaved thighs as I walk.

"Bella, love! Merry Christmas! Don't you look pretty?" Sue engulfs me into a warm hug and gives me a big kiss on my cheek, which she quickly wipes off with her thumb.

"Merry Christmas," I say back, my smile wide on my face. Harry is already out on the deck with Charlie, beer in hand, and the two kids, Leah and Seth, look to be wearing new Christmas clothes. "Hey, you two," I greet them. "Santa good to you?"

Leah rolls her eyes, but Seth nods his head emphatically. "Yeah! I got a new mountain bike!" he says, grinning.

"Lucky boy!" I say. "Want to go put your pressies under the tree? We'll do presents after lunch."

"Okay!" Seth runs away like an excited puppy and I glance at Leah.

"This is the last year he'll get away with it," she explains. "Mum told him Santa will come to him as long as he believes. He knows he's not real, but he also knows he gets better presents from Santa than he does from Mum and Dad."

"What did you get?" I ask, gesturing her to follow me to the deck.

"The usual," she says, following. "Clothes and stuff. But I did get a new iPod Touch."

I give myself a moment to bask in my sensational choice of present. Leah's already sprawling on one of the deck chairs, pulling what looks to be a new book from her bag as she sits down, so I tell her I'm heading inside to talk to her mum.

"How's it going in here?" I ask, shutting the screen door behind me. I wander over to the air con and kick it up a couple of notches—it's already heating up outside.

"Good," says Sue. "Just sorting out some nibblies."

We busy ourselves and chat about the kids' Christmas, and I'm sure Leah's right—Sue's totally onto Seth's Santa rip-off. Soon enough, the Blacks arrive, Jake looking extremely shabby which I'm not the least surprised about—he looked like he was well settled in when Edward and I left last night. When I unnecessarily fire up the electric beaters, he makes a hasty retreat which cracks me up.

I hear the side sliding screen door bang, and Liz's soft voice calls out. "Happy Christmas, everyone!"

She rounds the corner and I give her a quick hug, and she gives me a knowing smile as she moves to greet Sue and the other ladies in the kitchen. I barely even notice—my attention is on the tall, green-eyed boy behind her.

"Hi Edward," I greet him shyly.

"G'day," he says, and he grins, pausing for a beat. As quick as anything, he leans down to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas."

"You too," I reply, blushing scarlet.

"I really like your dress," he says quickly. "You look like a Christmas present."

This makes my face turn as red as my dress, and I quickly usher him in. He lingers just outside the kitchen, where Charlie has hung pretty much every single one of my school photos, from my first school photo with freckles all over my nose and two front teeth missing, to the grade five photo where I'd cut my own fringe, to the gangly, braces-wearing girl in year eight, and stopping at my year twelve photo, where I sit looking far more confidently than I felt in my navy blue, year twelve uniform.

"Oh," he says suddenly. "I bought beer."

"Oh, cool." I point to the Eskies lined up on the deck. "You can just put it out there if you like."

"'Kay," he says, and wanders outside. I watch him shake hands with Jake, and both of them laugh at something. Jake shakes his head and holds up a big glass of water that I'm sure he'll be nursing until the turkey is carved, and Edward sets the beer amongst the ice in one of the car fridges. Keeping two spare, he walks up to Charlie, and I see him introduce himself and offer Charlie a beer. I grin as Charlie accepts, and shakes Edward's hand, then directs him to where the other men are gathered around the barbecues.

"That was quick and painless," says Liz beside me. I turn to look at her, and immediately get flustered. She totally saw me checking out her grandson. I know, because she smiles cheekily. "Bubbly?" she asks. I'm so rattled, I agree.

As I mingle with our family friends, I'm always conscious of where Edward is and who he's talking to. He gets along with everybody—he gets lost in a conversation with Seth about video games, and I wonder if he's some kind of closeted nerd himself. He and Jake get along well, and he even helps Charlie carve the meat.

It's like he's been a part of our lives forever, and I suppose through Liz, he always has.

Platters and platters of food are laid out inside on the kitchen bench where it's cool—roast meats, turkey, the ham the Clearwaters scored at the meat raffle the other night, prawns, potato salad, roast veggies, more salads, and a huge array of homemade chutneys and sauces, courtesy of Liz and her garden. Everybody loads up their plates and takes a seat on the deck, and by the time I find myself sitting down to eat, I end up next to Edward.

I'm not disappointed.

And after a glass of champagne, I'm also feeling a little buzzy.

A glass being tapped catches our attention, and we turn to where Charlie stands at the head of the table.

"Thanks for coming, everybody," he says, looking around the table. When his gaze falls on me, I smile back. "And thanks to everyone for bringing food. You're all taking home leftovers." He raises his glass. "And here's to my girl, Bells, for sorting everything out."

I blush and receive clinks on my glass as people say thank you, and I blush harder when Edward's thanks are spoken so close to my ear I feel his breath. When I glance up at Charlie again, he holds his glass aloft.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!"

The sentiment is echoed, and the sounds of happy chatter, cutlery on plates, and crackers being pulled fills the air. Edward and I swap silly jokes and I laugh when he immediately pulls a green paper hat on his head, flattening his hair in the process. Although I shake my head, he unwraps a blue hat for me and slides it onto my head. It tears a little as it goes over my ponytail, but that's pretty normal.

"There," he says. "It matches your necklace."

I giggle. "Thanks. That's very thoughtful of you."

"That's me," he says, grinning. "I'm a thoughtful kind of guy."

"I'm beginning to get that impression," I say, and I smile back. "Merry Christmas, Edward."

* * *

**A/N: **First of all, **you guys are awesome.** Thank you so much for your well-wishes and happy thoughts. I'm so thrilled to hear you've liked this story—it makes me _heaps_ happy.

I've been asked to explain a couple of things. I wanted to put them at the bottom, so it'll give you a chance to read the story, or if you headed down here first, hopefully you've not been too spoiled. It might save you googling ;)

In Victoria, the state of Australia where this story is set, Year 12 (senior year) finishes classes at the end of October. Final year exams start in the first week of November, and some of them run as late as the end of November. Year 12 results come out during about mid-December, and university placements are announced in January. The University year begins at the start of March, so Bella's been free from school since she finished exams - for her, in mid November.

Temperature: Here in Australia, we use metric measurements for length and weight (metres, centimetres, and kilograms) and we measure temperature in degrees Celsius. 40 degrees C is 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Where Bella lives, it can get as high as high 40s on occasion. 45C is 113F, and we'd call that an absolute stinker. A couple of years back, temperatures hit almost 50 (122F). Most days usually sit in the 30s though (86F-102F).

Esky or car fridge: an ice box to keep your drinks cool. Americans might call it a cooler.

Weber: an outdoor cooker. A 'barbie' is a barbecue. For the record, we _never_ call it "throwing a shrimp on the barbie." ;)

Trams: Standard form of public transport used to get around Melbourne. I think they're known as street cars or trolley cars elsewhere in the world.

Pav, or Pavlova: A meringue and cream dessert, often topped with fruit, grated chocolate, and pretty much anything sweet and lovely.

Air conditioners: When the heat is dry, like it is in Forks Creek, evaporative air con units work best. You need to leave the doors and windows open a bit to let the hot air out. So, yeah...just in case anyone was wondering.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thank you to everybody for your sweet messages about my recovery :) I'm getting there! For anybody freezing your bits off at the moment—I hope this warms you up :)

Thank you to TwiSNfan and Astrosport2009. I'm a lucky girl to have you both in my corner. You're both ace, grouse, and generally unreal.

Definitions at the bottom. There's heaps. Jump there first if you like, or fly blind if you're a thrill-seeker. Up to you! Oh, I don't own Twilight. Have I mentioned that?

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**Weather With You**

**Chapter 4**

I lean back in my chair and pat my full tummy. I should get up and start the clean up, but I am _so_ full, and I really just want to sit here and bask with my food belly and my food coma.

"That was bloody good," says Edward beside me. I shift my head to look at him, and he gives me a lazy, satisfied grin. His paper hat is still perched on his head, although it's drooping to one side. He refuses to take it off, and when I asked why, he said it was a tradition he'd always had with his dad.

"Wasn't bad, was it?" I say, smiling back. Shifting in my seat so I'm more upright, I reach for his plate and start stacking. Before I can get any further, two hands still mine.

"You stay put, love," says Liz, taking my plate, and Edward's. "You've done plenty. Let us wash up."

"Thanks," I say gratefully, squinting into the sun that's breaking through the grapevines covering the pergola. "I know I'm being lazy…"

"Rubbish," she says, tsking me in the process. "You put your feet up. We'll sort this out."

"Well, in that case," says Edward, grinning. "I might get another beer."

"Not you, slackarse," Liz chastises him. "You're drying up."

"Aw, Grandma…" Edward whinges, and I get a glimpse of what he might have been like as a little tacker. I laugh.

"Go on. Off you trot." I give him a gentle nudge in the arm, and he turns to me, scowling adorably.

"Alright, woman. I'm going. Jeez." He winks at me teasingly, then makes an act of stomping off behind Liz in the direction of the kitchen. It only makes me laugh again.

"Is he your boyfriend?" asks a voice beside me. I turn to where Leah has plonked herself in the empty seat.

"What?" I splutter. "Um, no. I mean...no."

"Oh," says Leah, looking surprised. She squints, peering into the shadowy figures moving in the kitchen. "Because he kind of acts like he is."

"How do you figure that?" I ask, turning 'round in my seat to face her. Her cheeks have pinked up a little in the sun, but knowing Leah's genetics, she'll be so tanned come tomorrow morning.

"Well," says Leah slowly, dragging the word out. "He smiles at you a lot. And you smile at him. Heaps more than you smile at anybody else."

I'm not sure how to take that. "Er…"

"And you sat next to him for lunch. And he let you pull his cracker."

At that, I just about spit the sip of water I've just taken across the table. I'm coughing and spluttering, and my face is flaming red. "Leah? How 'bout you go ask your mum if we should do presents before or after sweets, okay?"

She shrugs but- thankfully-stands up. "'Kay."

And as she walks away, my face continues to heat up so much I reckon I could just about boil the pudding all by myself.

_._._._._._

The lounge room is a sea of wrapping paper and unwrapped presents—books, CDs, DVDs, toys, bottles of wine, gift packs, biscuit tins, clothes, and heaps of other stuff. I scored lots of stuff for my new flat, a gorgeous new bag for uni from Liz, plus the usual clothes, gift vouchers, and yummy-smelling lotions and creams. Even Edward did well, and I wonder how just about everybody has met him before except for me.

So now I'm sitting curled up on a lounge chair on the corner of the deck, cradling a bowl of Liz's hot Christmas pudding with Jake's mum's rum butter and brandy custard. Now that I'm eating it, I completely understand why the rum butter has been a 'grown-ups only' addition to the Christmas pudding—I'm feeling pretty warm and fuzzy right now. The feeling only intensifies when Edward comes and shifts my legs to the side and sits down on the end of the lounger.

"Have you had the pavlova?" he asks. He puts a spoonful in his mouth, and his eyes roll back. "Fan-fucking-tastic."

"Yeah, it's not bad," I say, smiling. I look down at my own bowl and shift the remaining rum butter to the side. "This stuff is probably a bit strong for me, though."

"Yeah, same here," says Edward. "Never was real good with Bundy." He glances around the backyard, where my dad is helping Seth bash cricket stumps into the ground. "This is good. I mean, everybody from different families, y'know. Getting together like this."

"Yeah," I say. "Everyone's family is too far away. I mean, the rest of the Blacks are way up north. The Clearwaters are flung across two states, and Charlie's the last one left."

"Except you," says Edward. "You know, Bella, we're all someone's daughter. We're all someone's son."

I burst into laughter. "You're quoting John Farnham at me? For real?"

Edward shrugs. "Seemed like a good time." He grins, and shoves a spoonful of pavlova into his mouth. "Did I tell you this was bloody amazing?"

"You did," I say, pleased that he's enjoying it.

He gestures in the direction where Harry is now pulling our rubbish bin into place to act as the stumps at the bowler's end. "You play?" he asks.

I roll my eyes. "I say I won't every year, but I always get dragged into it." I set my bowl on the ground beside my lounger.

"You any good?" he asks, and I snort.

"No way." I shake my head. "But it's heaps of fun."

"Righty-o!" calls Charlie. "Who's in?"

Edward grins at me and stands up. "Me," he says. "And Bella will play, too."

"Not yet," I say, putting my hand up. "I need to let my lunch go down a bit or I'll spew."

"Aw, come on, Bella!" calls Seth, lining up with the bat like he's opening on the Boxing Day Test.

"In a minnie," I yell back, settling back on my lounge chair and stretching my legs out. "Promise."

Edward claps his hands together and heads toward the makeshift pitch that's set up in the middle of the backyard. "Okay. What's the rules?" he asks.

Jake wanders in. "You can't go out first ball. The shed is automatic wickey. Tippity run. Fences on the full are a four. Over the fence is six and out."

"And one hand, one bounce," pipes up Seth. "And one hand catches off the house, fence, and the roof."

"No LBW," adds Charlie. "And you have to bowl underarm to the kids."

"And the girls!" says Leah, kicking her thongs to the side.

"And if it gets stuck in the grapevine, you're out," I finish from my spot on the lounger.

Edward shrugs, his hair glinting more red than brown in the sun. "Standard rules apply then."

"Yep," says Harry, slapping Edward on the back. "That's it!"

The fielders take their places, beers in hand, and Seth lines up to bat. As per the rules, Charlie delivers a gentle, underarm delivery, and Seth cracks it towards the shed, then he's off and running. He puts in for a gallant seventeen before Billy catches him out when the ball goes into the lemon tree, managing not to spill his beer, which earns him a cheer from the rest of the players.

I watch for a couple of overs, laughing at the good-natured ribbing and the efforts of grown men who relive their glory days in the background stadium. Eventually, Charlie catches Harry out and is up to bat, and then Edward is handed the ball.

"Righty-o, young fella," says Charlie, tapping the bat into the ground. "I opened for Forks Creek back in the day. Give me your best."

Edward cocks his head, and I can imagine what his eyes are doing behind his Ray Bans. "For real?" Charlie nods, and Edward takes a few extra steps back. "Well, okay then…"

He pretends to polish the tennis ball on his shorts, and I find myself sitting up a little straighter, and my heart beats a bit faster. Edward squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, and then begins his run-up. When he reaches the scratched-out crease, he bowls with an action that I'm pretty sure even Brett Lee would be impressed with...because I sure am.

Charlie swings, misses, and is bowled out, middle stump. There's a cheer and high fives, and Edward turns to give me a sheepish grin. I think he gets it—he just bowled out the Sarge, first ball, on his home soil.

And I really, _really_ kind of want to kiss him.

"Sorry, Sarge," he says, running a hand through his hair. "Can't go out first ball, right?"

Charlie's mustache twitches. "Right. Nice bowling, though. " He grounds his bat. "Betcha can't do it again."

Edward chuckles, and suddenly I want to play. I scramble to my feet and take a spot that'll give me a good view of Edward, but hopefully not make it look like I'm perving...although that's exactly what I'm doing.

He bowls again, and it does all kinds of funny things to me. Every time he rolls his arm over, I find myself mesmerised by the muscles in his back, in his shoulder, in his arms. I watch the way he flicks the ball out of his fingers, making it swing a bit, even though it's just a tennis ball. But the part where I pretty much fall over dead is when he peels his t-shirt off and tucks it into the back of his shorts. That pretty much ends me.

The game continues with everybody joining in, even Liz has a go. And after a while, people start to drop off, leaving for other parties or retiring to the shade for beer, wine, and soft drinks or an afternoon doze in a chair. And then it's just Edward teaching Leah how to bowl spin to Seth. With me, watching, and wishing it was my fingers he was weaving his through.

_._._._._._

"What the hell am I going to do with all this food?" I wonder aloud, surveying the damage. Everyone took stuff home, but there's still _so _much left. From the next room, as if to say, 'I don't know,' Charlie snores loudly from his spot in his recliner in front of whatever Christmas movie is playing on the TV.

"Eh," says Edward from across the bench. He leans his elbows on the bench and plucks a piece of cold ham from the plate that's between us. "Bring some over for lunch tomorrow if you like."

I cock an eyebrow at him, and spear a piece of potato salad. "You assuming I'm going to feed you tomorrow?"

He shrugs. "I mean, Grandma's playing golf so I was just going to relax and watch the cricket. Maybe go for a swim. But unless you have something else on…"

I pretend to think about it for a minute, but inside my tummy, the dragonflies are doing the hula. "Eh. I don't have to work, and I was probably just going to plant myself on the couch and watch the cricket myself…"

"That's decided then," says Edward, smiling. "We can couch-plant ourselves together."

I smile back, and look down shyly. "Yeah," I say. "That sounds good." I glance back up at him. "You got a bit of colour on your shoulders today."

Twisting his body and pulling up his sleeve, he wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, I s'pose I did. I got so distracted today I think I just forgot."

Before I even know what I'm doing, I'm leaning across the bench to press a finger to the reddened skin on his shoulder. It's warm to touch, and I'm all too aware of Edward's gaze on me. "Is it sore?" I ask, releasing my finger. The skin is white beneath my touch, before turning red again.

"It's a bit warm," he says, his voice low.

"I could, um…" I flush a little, but it's probably hidden by my own sun-kissed cheeks. "I could get some aloe vera, if you like…"

Edward's green eyes seem so much brighter against his skin. "If you have some, that'd be really good."

Climbing down from my stool, I wonder quickly in my head if I should go and get the lotion and come back with it, and then I find myself saying, "Come on, then."

We pass a snoring Charlie, then head down the hallway to the bathroom that's opposite my bedroom. Given that it's just me and Charlie living here, it's obvious that this bathroom is mine. I'm glad we've got another little bathroom off the laundry to cater for when Charlie's all smelly from fishing, because it meant I didn't have to clear up all my crap in preparation for everyone coming today.

I duck down and rummage in the cupboard under the sink, looking for the aloe vera that I bought at the start of the summer. "Ah-ha!" I find it, and stand up to find Edward picking up one of my moisturiser bottles, smelling the contents.

"Always go poking through people's stuff?" I ask teasingly.

"No," he says, and I'm pretty sure he turns even redder. He mumbles, "I was just wondering what it was you smell like. And now I know." He caps the lid on the bottle. "Pear."

"When...um…" I stammer, feeling incredibly shy, but curious at the same time. "When did you wonder what I smelled like?"

"When I was carrying you," he says softly. "My shirt smelled like you when I got home."

I open my mouth, but just end up gaping like a fish anyway. There is nothing—_nothing_—I can say that can be any more...anything that that. So I clear my throat, and hold out the bottle. "Um, here."

Edward shifts a little, pulling at the collar of his t-shirt. "Could you? I mean, I think the back of my shoulders got a bit burnt. Would you mind…?"

"Oh, of course." I twirl my finger in the air. "Turn around."

He turns, and pulls his shirt off in the process. His broad, smooth—but a bit red—back is right in front of me. I squeeze some of the aloe onto my hand and then press it to his skin, smoothing it out.

Edward shivers. "'S'cold," he says, goosebumps breaking out across his skin. I gently rub the aloe across his upper back, where the red is worst but his muscles are firm and defined under my palm. I rub it down the sides, lower down, and he squirms again. It makes me smile.

"Ticklish?" I ask. When he shakes his head no, I scratch my nails on his flank. He grabs my hand to still it.

"Don't," he says, his voice low and husky and making me feel _things_.

"Thought you said you weren't ticklish," I say, my voice quiet.

He groans. "Minx."

Biting my lip, I shake my head. "I'm not. I was just—"

"You don't get it, do you?" He shifts his weight, his hand still on mine, so that our eyes meet in the mirror. I shake my head again. "That's part of it, I s'pose. You just don't..._get_ it." I blink, thoroughly confused, and he keeps talking. I watch his lips in the reflection. "You just don't know how..._attractive_ you are."

There's no calming the raging fire that burns beneath my skin, colouring my body from the top of my head, down my chest, and making me feel it in my toes. "You think I'm attractive?"

He nods, and his green eyes are gleaming. "Yeah. I do."

"Bella?" Charlie calls, cracking some of the tension that seems to have made the air in the bathroom so much thicker. "You right?"

"Yeah, just a sec," I call back. I slip my hand from Edward's grasp, and he turns to face me. I hold out the bottle. "Your back's done. D'you want to take this with you?"

He takes the green bottle, his fingers brushing against mine. "Yeah. Ta."

Charlie's voice comes down the hallway again. "Bells?"

"Coming!" I stare at Edward for a beat, unwilling to leave but knowing that I have to before Charlie comes in here and finds me this close to my bedroom, alone with a shirtless boy.

I make my way quickly back down the hallway, and am happy to find Charlie still in his chair. "Just grabbing some sunburn cream for Edward. He got a bit burnt today."

"Yeah," says Charlie, his gaze drifting to somewhere behind me. "Right."

Edward appears next to me, his shirt back on and the bottle of aloe vera in his hand and in plain view. "I better get going," he says. "I gotta Skype with my dad." He glances at the large watch on his wrist. "He's staying with my aunty and it's morning in England, so he'll probably be up by now. I need to wish him Merry Christmas."

"Right-o," says Charlie, grunting as he stands up. He extends his hand to shake Edward's. "Send my best to your dad. And wish him Merry Christmas from us."

"Thanks, er…" Edward falters, but Charlie interrupts.

"Charlie," he says, his mustache twitching. "You may as well call me Charlie, since you embarrassed me in my own backyard."

"Yeah," says Edward when he gets his hand back. He runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't be," says Charlie. "Good to have some competition for a change."

Edward chuckles. "Thanks for having me." He turns to me, and for a moment, I think he's going to step in my direction, but my dad hasn't moved. Instead, he backs towards the door. "Thanks again for lunch, Bella."

"No worries," I say, following to see him out. Charlie returns to his recliner as Edward and I reach the front door. "So, I'll...see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Edward grins.

I smile back as I open the door. "I'll bring lunch."

"Cool." He steps out and backs towards Liz's place, his gaze never leaving mine. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," I say softly, and I close the door.

"So," says Charlie from his chair. "He's a nice bloke."

My face is about to split with the smile that's spread across my face. "Yeah, he is."

"I know his dad, Carl," says Charlie. "He's a top bloke, too. A real battler. Did it tough after he lost Beth—raised that boy on his own." He settles back into his chair, and this time, I know he's in for the night. "Did a bloody good job of it too, by the looks of it."

I glance through the narrow window beside the front door, and I can see Edward's figure walking back towards Liz's in the soft, purple light of the evening. "Looks like it." I try to wipe the ridiculously silly grin from my face before my dad busts me. "I'm going to grab a cuppa, and go to bed and read. You want anything?"

"Nah," he says, then he tilts his head to look at me. "Good job today, Bells. You really put on a good spread."

As I walk back to the kitchen, I shrug. "Everybody pitched in."

"Take a compliment, Bells," Charlie says. "Thanks, love. It was a bloody good day."

I smile back. "You're welcome, Dad."

Later, back in my room, I set my tea on my bedside table and walk around to draw the curtains. Just before I do, I glance up at Liz's across the street, and I can see a light on in one of the upstairs bedroom windows. I know from staying there myself that it's a spare room, and when a tall, shadowy figure moves across the room, I know that's the one that Edward's sleeping in. The figure stops, and I quickly close the curtains before I get busted.

_._._._._

Normally, I walk right into Liz's place. I stride in as if I live there, because when I was younger, I practically did. But not today—I'm standing on the porch, clutching a basket full of Christmas leftovers and trying to work up the nerve to _knock._

I know Liz isn't here—her car's gone, and she'll already be at the golf course. I think that's what's stopping me going right in—because I'm here not to see her, I'm here to see Edward. And this is the first time I've come here...especially to see Edward. So I can't just walk in. I mean, what if he just got out of the shower? What if he's naked? _Oh, my God, what if he's naked?!_

My heart is beating in my throat and I think, _fuck it_, and knock anyway. There's thundering footsteps, and through the glass in the door, I see Edward land with a thump at the bottom of the stairs, LiLi hot on his heels. He nearly trips over her in his haste to get to the door, and I laugh.

_He's dressed, _I think to myself with mixed feelings.

"Hi," he says as soon as he pulls the door open. "Bloody dog. I nearly killed myself on the way down."

I bend down to give the poodle a pat. "Hey, trouble." She jumps for the basket, and I straighten, pulling it out of reach. "Not for you, doggie. You're on a diet. Liz would kill me."

"Come in, come in," Edward says, stepping aside. "Aussies just won the toss. They're fielding first."

"Cool," I say, leaving my thongs at the door and following him inside and upstairs to the kitchen and where the big TV is and the air con works better. It's cooler today, only just hitting thirty, and it's a welcome relief after the baking heat of the past few weeks. I set the basket on the bench and start unpacking.

"Do you want something to drink?" asks Edward, heading for the fridge.

"Water's fine. Thanks." He gets us drinks and I stash some of the stuff in the fridge because it's too early for lunch. "What time's Liz due back?" I ask, trying to make my tone sound casual.

"'Round tea time," he says, setting a glass in front of me. "She's meeting her friends at the Golf Club after she finishes her round. She said she'd be out all day."

"Oh," I say. I'm half excited and half terrified—spending this much time with a guy, when it isn't a shift at work with Emmett, is new to me. There's nobody here to act as a buffer, and there's no adults to moderate.

Yeah, _definitely_ new territory for me.

"Coming?" Edward says, interrupting my inner freak out.

"Yeah," I reply, and I follow him into the lounge. He sits on the couch, and I pause, suddenly unsure of myself and where I should sit.

Edward stretches out on the chaise lounge, his long legs almost hanging off the end, and I settle myself on the other end, tucking my feet under me.

We watch for a while and, like always, I'm incredibly aware of Edward sitting near me. The side of my body closest to him feels warmer, and it's not from the fading sunburn he got yesterday. But as I'm aware that he's near, I find myself relaxing. He's not hard to be around—in fact, it's the exact opposite.

I wonder if it's the same for him. He seems as relaxed as can be, providing his own commentary every now and then and making me laugh. He groans when the umpires miss decisions that are _so obvious_, and I pick on him relentlessly.

"I'm hungry," I announce. "I'll just bring a heap of stuff in."

Edward grins at me. "Sounds good." He stands up. "I'll give you a hand."

"Thanks." We wander back into the kitchen and grab some plates and the leftovers, and head back into the lounge room. Edward resumes his spot on the chaise...but my spot is taken.

"Oi," I say, setting the plates down on the coffee table. "LiLi. Come on, down you get."

LiLi lifts her head, and I swear she rolls her eyes at me before she drops her head back down to her paws.

"Come on," I say. "My spot. Down."

If dogs can speak, I'm sure this poodle is telling me to beat it right now.

Edward sighs deeply. "You'll just have to sit here," he says, grinning as he pats the empty cushion next to him.

I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling, but I sit down next to him anyway. This time, he's close enough for me to pick up his delicious scent. I busy myself with getting a plate of food and Edward does the same. We eat, and chat, and watch TV, and occasionally our skin touches and my heart thumps away.

But by the time the cricket stops for lunch, I'm kind of over sitting around. I sense Edward is the same.

"Swim?" he asks, speaking quietly because I'm right next to him.

"Yeah," I say, and stand up. He does the same, and we're right up against each other. If I was going to kiss him, now would probably be a really good time to do it. But he doesn't make a move, and neither do I. Edward opens his mouth to say something, but then he closes it again. I speak in an effort to break the tension. "I'll just...um...put these away. And I have to put my bathers on."

"Yeah, of course." Edward steps aside, and I busy myself with cleaning up. "I'll go get changed."

"'Kay." I gather up all the stuff and head for the kitchen, putting our plates in the dishwasher and putting the stuff that's likely to go bad in Liz's fridge. Pulling my bathers out of the basket, I head to the bathroom downstairs to get changed. LiLi looks like she's about to follow me, but then she decides against it.

I fold my clothes and set them on the chair in the bathroom, then after putting my singlet top back on over my bathers and grabbing my sunscreen, I head out to the deck. When I get there, Edward is leaning against the railing, and he turns upon hearing the sliding door close. He stares at me for a moment, and then he smiles, one corner of his mouth turning up slightly more than the other.

"Okay," I say, pulling at the bottom of my top. "I'm ready. But..um, I forgot a towel."

"Oh," he says, pushing off the railing. "I'll grab you one." He walks past me to get back into the house, and he brushes past me in the process. It makes my skin feel like an electric current is buzzing through it.

He returns a moment later with an extra towel, and he slings both of ours over his shoulder. "I'd say I'll race you," he says as we walk down from the deck and towards the river, "but I really can't be arsed."

I laugh. "Tell me about it. After the lead-up to Christmas, I'm wrecked."

Edward scuffs the dirt, and because it hasn't rained in ages, dust billows around his feet. "When do you have to work again?"

"Tomorrow morning," I say, wrinkling my nose.

Edward nudges my arm with his elbow. "Better not keep you up too late tonight, then."

I blush, and giggle. "Well, I have to be at work at eight, so probably not."

"Hmm," he says, pressing his lips together as he smiles. "Shame. What about the next few days?"

"Every day," I say, avoiding a twig on the path. "Well, every morning. Emmett's got the afternoons, which annoys him no end."

"What would you rather?" asks Edward, and he puts a hand on the small of my back as I stumble a little. When I right myself, he doesn't remove it.

"Mornings," I say quickly. "Most people sleep all morning, so at least I've got the rest of the day free to do stuff. And it means I don't play up too much every night, so I save money at least." I glance up at him. "And I don't have a hangover every morning."

We reach the river, and Edward tosses our towels on the bench seat. "Ugh," he says. "I probably went a bit hard yesterday. Too many beers in the sun is never good."

"Not that you could tell," I say, peeling off my singlet and draping it over the back of the chair. "Your bowling was pretty stellar."

He chuckles. "Fluke. All of it."

"Ah," I say, giggling. "You're too modest." I hold up the bottle of sunscreen and plant a hand on my hip, giving him a lecturing look. "You should probably put this on today, though."

"Yeah," he says, looking sheepish. "Good call."

I squirt some on to my own hand and pass him the bottle, and we slather it on, the sun now high in the sky and having quite a bite to it. I do all the places I can reach, and before I can ask, Edward does it for me.

"I'll do your back if you do mine?"

I blush—because it's apparently what I do best. "Yep. You first. Turn around."

He obliges, and I retrace the path I made last night with the aloe vera. His skin feels just as good as it did yesterday, and I feel a clench in my tummy as I feel the gentle movement of his muscles beneath my palms.

"'Kay," I say, my throat dry. "You're done."

He turns to face me. "Your turn," he says quietly.

I turn around and lift my hair up off the back of my neck, pulling it over one shoulder. I squirm a little as the cream hits my skin. "'S'cold."

"I know." His voice sounds low and restrained like he's holding back. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck, and the combination of that and his hands—strong, and broad, and amazing—gives me chills. But far beyond this, and much better, I feel safe.

My breathing picks up and my heart beats faster, and his fingers tremble a little as he strokes across my shoulders and down my back. I just about fall out of my skin when, ever so gently, he lifts the straps of my bikini top to spread sunscreen beneath them. It's when his palms feel like they're wrapping themselves firmly on my sides that I find that I'm now leaning back against him. He doesn't remove his hands as I turn around.

Neither of us say anything, but I can practically hear my heart pounding in my ears. We continue to stare at each other, with nothing but the gentle sounds of the bush surrounding us. I can't stay like this forever; I want to stay like this forever.

"What?" I ask quietly, and my voice sounds echoey off the trees and still water.

"I…" It's the first time I've seen Edward not totally sure of himself. He takes a slow breath and releases it. "I was wondering something."

"What?" I ask again. His hands are still on my waist.

His eyes dart from my eyes, to my lips, to my eyes again. "I was wondering what you'd do if I kissed you."

My body moves even closer, all of its own accord. "I'd probably kiss you back."

"Probably?" he asks, his head tilting down closer to mine. I can feel his breath on my lips and his hands on my skin.

"Yeah," I say, "Probably."

He leans closer and closer, and finally our lips touch; hesitantly, softly. And just like that, it's like a spell has broken. His mouth is on mine, and his lips taste so much better than he smells—and that's saying something. I feel his hands grip me tighter, and I slide my hands up his bare chest—which I've been dying to do since I first saw him shirtless in the river—and further up, into his hair, which is so much softer than I thought it'd be.

As he draws me closer, he lowers us down to the bench, swimming forgotten for the moment. Everything gets better when his lips part slightly, and I do the same with mine, and I find that this boy kisses unlike any boy I've kissed before. He's confident, but yielding at the same time. Our teeth knock, but that doesn't stop us. We sit, pressed together on a wooden bench, with the sun causing spots behind my closed eyelids, and sounds of a kookaburras laughing and magpies warbling, and the smells of summer and the river and Edward filling my senses.

Which makes it pretty much perfect.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you so much for reading :) Sorry about the delay on posting - FFn was being a pain in the arse. I _love_ hearing if you're enjoying it, or if you've got questions.

**Definitions: Like I said, there are heaps, but I'm often asked lots of questions. You can read...or skip. Whatever floats your boat :) **

Christmas Cracker - a paper-wrapped, cardboard tube. Two people pull on it, one holding each end, and when it breaks apart, there's a 'bang'. They're like a wishbone, in that someone gets the bigger part comprised of the tube, which has a paper hat, a crappy plastic toy, and a shitty joke that everyone laughs at despite how dumb they are eg. What do you call a man with a paper bag on his head? Russell. (geddit? Russell/Rustle? told you they were bad.)

Paper Hats at Christmas - see Crackers, above.

Bundy - short for Bundaberg Rum.

Ta - Thanks

Boxing Day - the day after Christmas Day. It's a public holiday, which means a day off work. The big department stores have Boxing Day sales, which are like the Black Friday sales in the United States. It's also the start of a couple of big sporting events—the Sydney to Hobart Yacht Race, and the Boxing Day Test at the Melbourne Cricket Ground (a five day Cricket game). Test cricket is a whole different beast...I might direct you to google for that one ;)

Tea - Dinner. As well as the tea you drink (usually hot).

Sweets - Dessert

John Farnham - the song quoted by Edward is "You're The Voice." It's an Aussie anthem, pretty much.

Little tacker - a child.

**Swan's Backyard Cricket - the rules explained**

You can't go out first ball - You can't go out on the first ball that is bowled to you

The shed is automatic wickey - The shed acts as the wicket keeper. If the ball is hit by the batter and it goes behind and into the shed, you're automatically out (it assumes the shed catches the ball).

Fences on the full are a four - Four runs for hitting the fence directly.

Over the fence is six and out - If you hit it over the fence, you get six runs...and you're out.

And one hand catches only off the fence or the roof - You can catch it off the fence or the roof, but you have to take it with one hand.

No LBW - Leg Before Wicket, although fine in normal cricket, is not an acceptable way to go out in backyard cricket. It's too hard to judge, and people always crack the shits.

If it gets stuck in the grapevine, you're out.

Tippity run - If you hit (or 'tip') the ball, you have to run (you can choose not to in regular cricket). This helps keep the game moving, and it increases the chances of the batter going out being 'run out'.

Bowl underarm to the kids - normally an underarm bowl is illegal - the action must roll over with a straight arm (bending the elbow, or 'chucking', is illegal). You can get up quite a bit of pace, so in order to make it easy for kids (and, in some instances, girls), the ball must be bowled underarm with one bounce so it's easier to hit.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Thank you to TwiSNFan and Astro2009 for all of the things.

This week, our maximum temperatures aren't falling below 40degrees C. Every night is hot, and we're also having thunder storms, but without the downpours. So, that means lightning is striking fields and forests that are tinder-dry. To all my Aussie readers that live in bushfire-prone areas, know that I'm thinking of you. Stay safe.

* * *

**Weather With You**

**Chapter 5**

Slowly, with a few lingering little kisses, Edward's lips move away and we sit, gripping each other, foreheads touching.

"For the record," he says, sounding breathless. "You're really good at kissing back."

I delight in the feeling of having him pressed so close against me, of having his arms around me.

"I've wanted to do that pretty much since the first time I saw you," he says. "Definitely since we came here last."

My lips, which are still tingling from kissing his, stretch into a wide smile. "Likewise."

"Well," he says, stroking my cheek and then my chin with his thumb. "I'd like to do that again soon."

I can't nod too much because his forehead is against mine. "Okay."

He kisses me again and it's just as lovely as the first time, if not better. He smells like sunscreen mingled with some delicious boy smell that I've had hints of in the past few days. When our lips break apart again, I snuggle close to him and he wraps his arms around me, burying his face into my hair.

"You're shaking," I whisper.

"It's what you do to me," he says. "You've been on my mind for days."

"You too," I admit. "I've been thinking about you heaps." I blush a little. "I've been imagining what it would be like to kiss you."

He pulls back a little, and I see his green eyes gleaming. "Meet your expectations?"

"Hmm," I say, shaking my head but smiling still. "Better."

"Good." He kisses my forehead, then lets his hands trail down my arms. He weaves our fingers together. "So...swim?"

"Yeah." I squeeze his hands, and then push them away as I jump to my feet. "Race you."

"Ha!" I hear his footsteps behind me, and then they hit the jetty and we hit the water at the same time. His hands feel nothing short of delicious on my skin, and when I surface, he's right there. His hair is plastered to his head and his eyelashes are wet and clumped together, which just set off his eyes more. Even with his lips below the surface of the water, I can tell he's smiling by the way his eyes crinkle.

"Hey," I say, treading water as I feel myself drift slowly downstream.

"G'day," he says back, seemingly using far less effort to stay in the same place.

I don't want to end up in the reeds, so I start skulling backwards towards the bank, and Edward follows. I reach the jetty and grab hold of the wood, and Edward sidles up next to me. Beneath the water, I feel his hand on my waist. I squirm a bit because it tickles, and then something hits me.

"Wait," I say, the happy fluttering that's been happening in my tummy suddenly turning uneasy. "I know we just met…" I squint my eyes closed. "God, you must think I'm a slut. We've only known each other a few days and I kissed you already." My cheeks flame, despite the cool water surrounding me. "Shit. I'm not like that."

"Bella, hang on." Edward comes even closer. With his free hand, he pushes my wet hair over one shoulder. "I don't think that at all. I know what you're like. I know, from what Grandma has told me, and who your dad is, and seeing you yesterday in your natural environment." He drops his voice. "I'm not like that either. I mean, I'm not some kind of player."

"I didn't—"

"Neither did I," he says, his voice soft. "Bella, I've…"—he takes a deep breath—"I've only kissed two girls."

"Since you've been here?" I ask, my eyes wide.

"No," he says, and I see his cheeks pink up a bit. "Ever."

I ponder this for a minute, and let the words fall out slowly. "Before me?"

This time, his face is properly red. He looks bloody adorable, all bashful and stuff. "Including you."

The look on my face is probably pretty comical. I can't believe it—Edward is one of the best-looking boys I've seen. In my life.

"I told you," he says, and he turns his face away from me. "I'm not like that."

"Hey," I say, and this time it's me who moves closer. "I didn't mean anything. And I'm not judging you." He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I shake my head. "I'm not. I actually think it's…"—I trail a finger along his arm, watching the goosebumps rise as I do it—"...kinda hot."

Edward peeks at me out of the corner of his eye. "Really?"

"Yeah," I say, ducking in between him and the dock. "You'd never be able to tell. I think you're extremely good at it." And compared with my not-so-lengthy experience of one drunken pash at a party earlier in the year, and a dare when I was fourteen, he tops my list.

Feeling bold, and a whole lot of turned on by the shy boy in front of me, I grab the back of his neck and pull his mouth onto mine. I feel his lips smile before something different takes over, and I'm pressed into the post on the corner of the jetty. It digs in a bit, but I barely notice. Wrapping my arms around his neck, my nipples are on high beam as our chests press together, and I'm lost in the feeling of tongues, hands, and…

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, pulling away when I moan.

"No," I say with a gasp. "Not at all."

He pulls his hips away from me. "Fuck. Sorry," he says between breaths.

"Don't be." I struggle to catch my own breath. "It's fine."

"Didn't mean to accost you," he says, and he presses a small, chaste kiss to my lips. "I'm kind of curious though. Have you…" He lets the words skim the surface of the water, and I shake my head.

"No." And my own curiosity gets the better of me. "Have you…?"

He shakes his head emphatically. "No. A bit of mucking around, but not...that."

"Me neither," I say. With my arms still around his neck, he floats us into where the willow tree is and the water is shallower. We slip beneath the canopy of the willow, and it feels like we're in a green-curtained room.

"Why do I just tell you stuff?" Edward says, like he's wondering aloud. "It's like I just...I don't know. I can't help myself."

"I think it's a good thing, don't you?" I say. "I mean, you don't have to tell me _everything_, but...I kind of like that you're comfortable with me."

"Yeah," he says, pulling me close again with a grin. "I think you're very comfortable."

As our skin presses together, I giggle. "Likewise."

We swim around, and kiss a bit more, until we're pruny and wrinkled. The sun still has a bite to it when we get out, and my bathers are almost dry by the time we reach the house. We decide not to change in case we go for another swim later, but I do chuck on my singlet top and shorts before we settle back on the couch with more food and some soft drinks to watch the cricket. At some stage, we both doze off, wrapped around each other on the couch.

The cricket is still on when I blearily open my eyes, having sensed someone near. When I jump with a start, I wake Edward. I'm not able to sit up properly, because Edward puts me in an iron grip. "Don't move," he mumbles sleepily.

Liz is standing between us and the TV, staring. I know her pretty well, so I swear she's trying to hide her smile. "Cuppa?" she asks casually.

"Grandma?" Edward says, sounding confused. I tilt my head to see his face, and slowly a big sleepy smile spreads across his features. "Love one," he says with a yawn. "Ta."

"You too, Bella?" Liz's lips press even more firmly together as I nod silently.

She leaves, headed for the kitchen, and it's not until she's safely behind the dividing wall that I hear her laugh. Edward's echoing chuckle is low in my ear.

_._._._._

I'm not late when I walk into work the next morning, but I'm pushing it. As the bell dings when I walk in, Emmett is slumped over the counter.

"Mate?" I say hesitantly, slipping behind the counter and setting my bag underneath it. "You right?" The only response I get is a deep groan that could rattle the windows. I laugh. "Oi. You right?" I ask again.

"I'm never fucking drinking Beam again," he says, lifting his head from the counter. "And my dad is a fucking arsehole."

This time, I properly crack up. "What did you do this time?"

"Ugh." Emmett rubs his face, and his unshaven jaw sounds scratchy. "Watched the cricket yesterday. Then went to Sambo's after for a few frothies."

"And bourbon, apparently," I say, pulling the hair tie from my wrist and putting my hair up in a ponytail.

"Yeah." Emmett groans again. "Then when I got home, I woke up Dad. I crashed, and then he woke me at four o'clock in the fucking morning to run the papers."

I gasp. "How? There's no way you'd be able to drive!"

He smacks his lips together and grimaces. "Bastard made me do it on me pushie."

Holy fuck, I thought I was in bad shape. This sends me into hysterics, and Emmett gives me the finger. "What about you? You're hardly looking like a spring chicken yourself, Bells. Big one?"

"Nah," I say, smiling a bit as I head for the sink behind the other counter that has the pie warmer. "Just slept in a bit." As I talk, I fill up the kettle and switch it on, and pull two mugs out of the cupboard above the sink. Dale's mentioned getting a coffee machine, but for now, instant is going to have to do for the both of us. If it's not too busy, one of us might get time to run to the bakery later to get a real coffee.

I peer over the pie warmer to where Emmett is still standing, looking like shit. "Why are you even here?" I ask. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. Part of my _education_ is that I got Mum's shift this morning. Dad thought she deserved a sleep in."

"Well, you should at least go shower first," I say as the kettle switches off. I start pouring. "You smell like the piggery."

Emmett sniffs himself—_gross—_and then moves towards the back door, scratching his tummy on the way. "Right-o," he says. "I'll be back in a sec."

"I got it," I reply, dumping two spoons of sugar into his cup. I hand it to him on his way past. "We've probably got half an hour before it gets busy."

He mumbles his thanks, and then he's gone, into the house where I'm sure a world of pain from Dale awaits him. I shake my head, and with my mug in hand, head back to the counter. Sure enough, the bell above the door rings, and my day has properly begun.

_._._._._

This morning, I've had all my regulars. I have the same conversations, and sell the same stuff I usually do, but I like it—it's familiar. The last few days have been so crazily hectic that it's nice to have a bit of routine back.

But thinking about the next few days...something new is good, too. A break in routine is _really_ good. Edward's lazy grin appears in my mind, and I find myself smiling back.

"Earth to Bella...come in, Bella…" I'm shaken out of my daydream by Emmett's hand waving in front of my face. "Mate, where'd you go?"

"What?" I grab a cloth and start hurriedly wiping the counter. "Nothing. I'm right here."

"_Sure_ you are," he says, resting an elbow on the counter. He cocks his head to the side, and he's got that same gleam in his eye that Dale gets right before he chucks ice at me from the ice machine. "So, whatcha doin' this arvo?"

I shrug, but a smile tickles at the corners of my mouth again. "Dunno. Just hanging 'round."

"''Cause Tay's dad's letting him borrow the boat. We're going to head out the river." He pauses. "Well, they're already there, but I'm gonna go after work." He grins. "Wanna come?"

I hesitate, because my plans for this afternoon consisted of seeing what Edward was doing. And ringing Ange—I got a 'save me' text from her last night. I really need to ring her.

"I dunno," I say slowly. "I was going to see what Ange was doing…"

"Bring her," he says quickly. "Rick's going, so he'll be stoked if she comes." He shrugs, and tries to pass off refilling the lollies on the counter as casual, which is ridiculous—Emmett doesn't do casual. "You can even bring that guy that came to the Club on Christmas Eve, if you like. What was his name? Ed-something?"

"Edward," I say quickly, and the smile that's been hiding beneath the surface breaks through. "Um, yeah. I guess I could ask."

"Heard he came to your joint for Christmas," he says, still stuffing Freddo Frogs into the box. He's putting half of them in backwards.

"Yeah?" I say, heading over to the sink to rinse out my cloth. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Jake," he replies. "He went out to Sambo's, too."

"Ugh," I say, wrinkling my nose because there's a high chance that if there were a bunch of blokes at Sambo's, drinking, someone probably tried to start shit—and it probably wasn't Jake. "How was that?"

Emmett shrugs, but he stops filling the box for a sec. "A bit weird." He stuffs the last of the Freddos in, like he's a bit pissed off. "Paul was a bit of a dickhead."

"That's nothing new," I say, scowling. "Paul's always a dickhead." I sigh, and a feeling of melancholy settles over me. Jake's who he is—while he hasn't told everybody in so many words, we all know. He doesn't pick up girls at parties—or anywhere else, for that matter—but blind Freddie could see he's had a thing for Sambo since about year ten, and I think the feeling's mutual. "Jake told me on Chrissie he's moving to Sydney."

"Yeah," says Emmett, squashing the empty carton and throwing it on the pile of yesterday's papers that need to go for recycling. His voice sounds like how I feel. "Sambo said the same thing yesterday."

Neither of us need to say anything else—but we both know Sambo and Jake have a better chance of being really happy up in Sydney, far away from the buzzing gossip-mill and small-town bullshit that goes on in Forks Creek. Sambo and Jake are our mates. And you don't rag on your mates. Not for something serious like this.

"So," says Emmett, his tone lighter. "River?"

"Yeah, sounds good." I look up when the bell dings, and Mrs. Biers comes in. I shift my attention back to Emmett. "I'm going to restock the milk." I pat his chest, and nod in Mrs Biers' direction. "Consider this part of your _education_."

Emmett groans quietly as Mrs Biers greets him with all of the enthusiasm she has. She always told me she thought he was a handsome boy. She'll keep him talking for ages, and the look I see on Emmett's face right before I duck into the coolroom tells me he knows it.

_._._._._

"Thank _God_ you're here!" says Ange as I wander through the sliding door that goes into the kitchen. "I'm about to kill them both. I swear. I'll kill them 'til they're dead."

"Oh, come on," I say. "They're not that bad, are they?" Just then, I have to duck because out of nowhere comes a tiny flying helicopter. It nearly scalps me on its way past. "Hey! What the…?"

"See?" Ange dives for cover beneath the kitchen bench. "Who the hell gives them remote controlled flying devices? Did _nobody_ learn from the ankle assaults from the remote control cars last year?" Keeping her head low, she dashes for the kitchen table, grabbing her bag and towel. "Mum!" she yells. "I'm off!"

"Okay!" Mrs Weber calls back. "Will you be home for tea?"

Ange throws me a look, and I shake my head. We'll grab something later. "Nah!" she yells back.

"Have fun! Ring if you're going to be late."

Ange rushes for the door, narrowly avoiding being hit by a helicopter. "Will do! See ya!"

We make it out the door and manage to close it, just in time to hear one of the helicopters smash into it.

"Let's go," she says, already headed for my ute. She lays her towel down on the seat and climbs in, and once I'm in, I crank the engine. It roars to life, and I rest my arm across the top of the bench seat to better see when I'm backing out of her driveway. Like always, Ange immediately takes charge of the radio, plugging in her phone and scrolling to something summery. We drive through town with the windows wound down, Ange's feet on the dash and her arm out the window.

"So…" she says. "Rick's going?"

I grin. She likes him as much as he apparently likes her. "Yeah, that's what Emmett said."

She shrugs, but I can see her smiling. "Cool."

"I just have to grab my stuff," I say, smiling as we pass the gated garden that Edward and I walked through the other night. "And pick up Edward, and we're good to go."

Ange giggles. "Haven't you done that yet?" she says, batting her eyelashes. "Picked him up? God, Bella. Slow much?"

"Oh, I did that." I say as we pass the shop. I try to remain nonchalant, but a squeal is bubbling in my throat.

Ange's jaw just about hits the floor of the ute. "Fuck _off!" _she says slowly. "Did you pash him?" When I press my lips together and say nothing, she slaps me on my bare arm. "You did! You fucking well did! Ha! I _knew_ it!"

"How?" I ask. "It's not like you're psychic."

"I just knew. The way you talked about him. That's not you. Well, it wasn't. I s'pose you were just waiting for the right guy." She turns the radio down, signifying that this conversation is about to get serious. "Is he? The right guy, I mean."

This time, there's no hiding the smile that creeps across my face. I'm surprised my cheeks haven't exploded with all the smiling I've been doing lately. "Yeah," I say. "I mean, it's only been a coupla days, but" —I take a deep breath and let it out— "yeah. He's the right guy."

Ange drums her thighs with her hands. "Eeeep!"

"Shut up," I say, rolling my eyes a bit even though I want to make the same noise. "It's early days. Like, really early days."

"When you know, you know," she says sagely. And then she makes that squealy noise again, totally removing all traces of seriousness from the car. I find myself giggling, and then squealing with her. And when the _best _Aussie summer song comes on, we sing along at the top of our lungs, windows down, and the warm summer air blowing through our hair. I look over at Ange, and warm with the fact that I don't have to be anywhere right now. I have my bestie, I have sunshine, and this afternoon I just might kiss a really great boy. And the best feeling fills my veins.

_Freedom._

_._._._._

My dad _adores_ Ange.

I think he likes the way we became friends. We were in year 8, and we were both pretty shy. This one day—I think it was because I had beaten Alice in a maths test—Alice got really shitty. So she'd been a bitch, not making room for me at one of the tables at lunch so I had to stand at the end because there wasn't anywhere else to sit.

I'd only been at Forks Creek High a couple of months, but by then, I already knew Alice was trouble—I just hadn't been there long enough to know how to handle her. But Ange had: even though she was shy, she offered me her spot. And then she sat _on_ the table, putting her bum right in Alice's face. Alice had told me to move, and Ange—the minister's daughter—promptly told her to fuck off and stop being a nasty bitch.

Ange and I have been best friends ever since.

"Angela!" Charlie greets her as we walk in, setting down the knife he's using to carve the ham so he can spread his arms wide. "My favourite daughter!"

"Hey!" I protest, at the same time Ange gives him a big hug. "What about me?"

"Sarge! My favourite Sarge!" She hugs him tight. "Merry Christmas!"

"You too, love," he says, releasing her.

I blow a raspberry at both of them, and head straight for the fridge to pick out some food to take with us out the river. "We're going to head out the river," I say, my head still in the fridge. I spy some leftover smoked trout and cheeses. "Tay's dad's letting him borrow the boat."

Charlie starts putting together his sandwich. "No worries," he says. "But be careful. There was a bunch of yobbos out there last night." He shakes his head, as if he's remembering last night's shift. It must've been big—he was still passed out when I went to work this morning.

"We'll be right," I tell him, setting the food on the kitchen bench. "The boys will all be there, and Tay knows how serious it is if his dad gives him the boat."

"I know you will," says Charlie, and he takes a bite of his sandwich. His moustache twitches, and I don't know if he's smiling or eating. He swallows—he's smiling. "Taking Edward with you?"

"Yeah," I say, super-casually. Behind Charlie, Ange is making kissy faces. I'm pretty sure Charlie would take it the wrong way if I gave her the finger. Instead, I say, "Ange? Grab the esky out of the laundry, will you?"

"Sure thing, Bella," she sings, and heads towards the laundry. "It's clean, isn't it, Charlie? No fish guts?"

"Yeah." Charlie grabs the paper and picks up his plate. "Scrubbed it out real good before Christmas."

As Charlie walks into the lounge room to eat and, I assume, watch the cricket, Ange and I sort out a heap of leftovers to take with us. As we cram in as much as we can fit around the ice packs, Ange asks, "Any pav left?"

"Nah," I say, cutting off a chunk of Christmas cake and then slicing it into manageable pieces. "Edward ate it all yesterday."

"Is that all he ate?" I look up to see Ange waggling her eyebrows.

"Oh my God!" I hiss. "Ange!"

"What?" she asks, eyes wide. "Fair question. You said you pashed, I was just wondering—"

"Not _that_," I say, hiding beneath the bench under the guise of digging through a drawer to find aluminium foil, but in reality, hiding the raging redness that's engulfed my body. I feel like I'm about to catch fire. "You know I've never…" I clear my throat. "And besides. I only kissed him yesterday."

"Shh," she says, hushing me in thankfully a much quieter voice than she used a few minutes ago. I peek my head up, and she peers in the direction of the lounge. When she seems satisfied that Charlie is otherwise occupied, she speaks again. "I'm just saying. If he's nice, and you're obviously attracted to each other, right?" I nod. "Well, it might be a good chance for you to get some..._experience_. You know, before uni."

I set the alfoil down and think about it for a second. It's a bit weird for Ange to suggest this, but I know she doesn't mean that she thinks Edward is expendable. Her experience is less than mine, much to her disappointment. Many wouldn't know it, but Ange's hormones are so highly strung that I don't know how she gets the marks in school that she does. And guys tend to keep a greater distance from her than they do me—because Ange is the minister's daughter. While many of the boys in our year would love the challenge, none would dare. And it drives her nuts.

All this sounds pretty rich coming from the Sarge's daughter.

Maybe she has a point, but Edward's not like that...and neither am I. I don't want to think of him as someone to practise with. I want...more. "Yeah, nah. I mean, I want it to be special."

Ange takes the foil and Christmas cake from me and starts wrapping. "Is Edward special?"

I nod. That one's easy. "Yeah."

Her eyes remain focussed on her task "Just think about it. He's a nice guy, he's _hot_. I'm sure he'd oblige."

I don't say anything else, because although Ange is my best friend and she knows pretty much everything about me, I don't want to betray Edward's trust—what we have has been just between the two of us. I want to keep it that way.

Picking up my phone, I scroll through to the newest addition to my contacts. He put it there last night when Liz made him walk me home at the respectable hour of ten PM...and then we texted each other until two AM. _That's_ why I was almost late to work. I text Edward to ask what he's doing, and then almost swoon when a reply comes back straight away.

"Is that him?" Ange asks. She hurries around to my side of the bench to read over my shoulder. I try to hide the phone, but I'm not quick enough. "'Hopefully spending it with a beautiful girl,'" she reads. "Ooh! What did you say to him?"

As I tap another reply to Edward, I tell her, "Just asked what he was doing this afternoon."

"Aww!" Ange pulls up a stool and sits down, propping her chin on her hands. "That's so cute. What are you saying now?"

My phone chimes, and I quickly reply again. "Just that we'll pick him up in fifteen. I'm going to get changed."

Ange badgers me with questions the whole time I get changed out of my work gear and into more river-appropriate wear. I plonk a straw hat on my head, and we wave to Charlie on the way through.

"I'm working again later," he says. "So I probably won't be here when you get home. Not getting a day off 'til the third when all these tourists piss off home." He grumbles a bit, but I know he loves his job. It's just this time of year that shits him.

"Sorry, Dad," I say, a little sympathetic. I worry about him at this time of year, too. As far as crime rates go, Forks Creek is a blip on the radar. Doesn't mean that there's no risk with a mob of drunk tourists. "Be safe. I'll see you in the morning, yeah?"

"Yeah," he grumps. "Have fun."

Ange and I carry the Esky between us out to the ute and slide it into the tray, up near the cabin. We toss our bags in too, and pile in. It's only about three minutes later when I pull up in Liz's circular driveway. Before I can get to the door, Edward is already walking towards me.

"Hey," he says, smiling. He's wearing a cap pulled down low, and his sunglasses. The shoulders I had my arms wrapped around yesterday are beneath a white t-shirt and he's wearing his board shorts again. From the open window of the ute, I hear Ange whistle. Thankfully, Edward doesn't seem to hear it.

"Hi," I say back, and I suddenly feel all fluttery.

He walks closer, and leans down to place a kiss on my cheek. His eyes dart behind me for a minute. "Is this yours?" he asks, tilting his head towards my ute.

"Yeah," I say. "Why?"

"No reason," he replies, rolling his towel and stuffing it between the esky and the cabin. "Just saw it in the driveway the other day. Thought it was Charlie's."

I grin proudly. "Nope, all mine. Even paid for it with my own money."

"Uh huh," he says lowly, and he's got that same restrained tone he had yesterday. Just then, Ange coughs loudly and it catches his attention. "Hi," he says, extending his hand. "I'm Edward."

Ange shakes back. "Ange. I've heard heaps about you."

Even behind Edward's glasses, I see him raise an eyebrow. "Oh really?" He's smirking. That's the only way to describe it.

I nudge him towards the passenger side. "Don't get a big head," I tell him. "You won't fit in the car."

"Might be especially hard since you're riding bitch," calls Ange, hopping out to make room. "G'on. In ya get."

"Ta," he says, but he's still smirking. Ange throws me a look across the top of the car that pretty much tells me I've done well, and I roll my eyes as I get in.

"Okay then," I say, turning the key. The engine roars to life. "Off we go, then."

_._._._._

Coming to the river was a really good idea. It's about the only quiet spot within twenty minutes of Forks Creek, because this part of the river bank belongs to Tay's family—their farm backs right up to the river and their land stretches along it for a mile or so. So while the yobbos that Charlie is chasing are all in the public campgrounds further downstream, right here it's quiet and secluded, with only us here.

The car ride here was nothing short of torture. Torture, because Edward's thigh was pressed against mine the whole time, and each time I had to reach for the gearstick by the steering wheel, my arm brushed along his. He made no effort to shift over—I could almost say he was probably enjoying it. I sure was.

The kiss I got as soon as we arrived pretty much sealed my thinking that coming here was a _brilliant_ idea.

We'd pulled up at the river bank where my friends were gathered, and I parked, still in the shade but far enough away from potential falling river gum branches. Ange had bundled out and straight away headed over to where Jess was sunning herself, but Edward stopped me.

"Wait," he said. I shut the car door, and suddenly I was caged in his arms. He maintained about an inch between our bodies as he leaned down towards me. "I need to do something."

"Yeah?" I asked, tilting my hat back to see him better.

"You drive a ute," he said lowly. "Do you have any idea how fucking hot that is?"

Biting my lip, I shook my head. "No."

"Well," he said, reaching up to flip his hat around. "It is."

All distance was lost as he pressed his body against mine, sandwiching me between him and the car, and kissing me in a way that turned my knees to water and my bones to jelly.

It's a few hours later when we're sitting on the log that stretches into the water, my feet swirling in the river. Edward nuzzles my shoulder. "What you smiling about?"

I blush...just for something new. "Honestly?"

He drops a kiss to my shoulder. "I always want you to be honest with me."

Crossing my ankles doesn't really help quell the tingling that's going on in my lower belly. I take a deep breath, and speak in the lowest whisper. "The way you kissed me when we arrived."

He hums against my skin, and then his arm wraps around me and his lips move to below my jaw bone. "You liked it?"

I breathe the words. "Very much."

He sucks gently below my ear, making my breath catch and making me _really_ wish my friends weren't here right now. "Me, too."

"Oi! You two!" Emmett's voice booms across the water. I ignore him. "Bella!"

I roll my eyes, and reluctantly put a respectable distance between myself and Edward. "What do you want, idiot?"

"Aww, don't be like that," he says, splashing through the shallow water of the sandbar towards us. He's like a bloody wounded bull the way he crashes around the place.

"Just because you're shitty that Rosie isn't here," I say teasingly. Emmett reaches down and splashes me, getting more on Edward in the process who just shakes it off, laughing.

"Sorry, Ed," says Emmett. "Just meant to get the shrew, here."

I splash back, as much as I can reach. "Stop being a dickhead," I tell him. "What do you want?"

"What are you two doing for New Year's?" he asks, and it makes me fluttery inside. Like he's asking us...like we're a couple.

"Haven't decided yet," says Edward, reaching towards me to hold my hand. I weave my fingers through his, and try to keep a grip on myself.

"We were just talking," says Emmett. "Rosie's back tomorrow, and a bunch of us were thinking of coming back here to camp. Thought we might stay a few days."

"Hmm…" I think it over. "I have to work" —I lift my hand to shade my eyes— "and so do you, Emmett."

"I know," he says, splashing again. "But I'm going to come back into town in the afternoons to work, then come out after."

I glance over to where Alice is making a big show of making sure she doesn't fall out of her bathers top. "What about Brandon?"

"Fuck her," says Emmett quickly. "She's not invited."

"She's gonna spew," I say, matter of factly.

"Nobody cares," Emmett replies, and Edward chuckles. "Besides, she said she was going to the Club for New Year's." Emmett tips his head to the side. "Come on, Bells. Ange is going to. It'll be fun. It's our last hurrah." He glances Edward's way. "What about you, Ed?"

Edward shrugs. "Sounds good to me."

Watching my toes disappear beneath the water, I bite my lip as I think about it. The Club for New Year's, which is pretty much the only other option, doesn't appeal to me. But the chance to spend this New Year's, the last one where all my friends will be in the same place, sounds really good. We'll be away from the crazy of town, with just good mates, a few beers, and a campfire if it's not a total fire ban day. And of course, Edward...and a tent.

"Yeah, okay," I say, and Emmett fist pumps. I put my free hand up. "I'll have to check with the Sarge. He still might say no."

"He'll be right," says Emmett confidently. "He loves me." I stare at him in disbelief, and he nods emphatically. "Fair dinkum. He knows we'll look after you."

I watch as Emmett splashes off to where Ange is perched on Rick's shoulders. It would seem that they're the apparent reigning champs in a chicken fight war, and Ange is goading Jess and Mick into challenging them. I have to smile at the sight of Rick's face—he's grinning widely, unbothered by Ange's waving and swaying. If they're not kissing by New Year's, I'll happily eat my straw hat for tea.

And it hits me how much I'm going to miss everybody.

"You suit it here." Edward's voice is quiet beside me. I turn to look at him, and he's smiling.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

He waves his hand around. "Here. Like this. It suits you, but I get that you want bigger things." He brushes my now-dry hair off my shoulder. "You're so much bigger than this town."

I look down at the water, biting my lip and feeling a bit embarrassed. "I don't know. I'm a bit worried I'm going to get lost in the city. You know?" I huff out a breath. "There's so many people..."

"You won't," he says, tilting my chin up to look at him. He sets his green-eyed gaze on me, but it's soft as he holds me still. "You'll be fine. And I'm pretty sure the sunshine will follow you anywhere you decide to you go."

"Thanks," I say. "Will…" I dig the words up that are wrapped around a ball of anxiety in my tummy. This boy is sunshine all on his own. "Will you be there, too?"

He grins. "Yep."

And then I lean towards him, letting my lips find his.

* * *

**A/N:** I adore the reactions I've had through reviews. Each one brings a smile to my face. Thank you to anybody who's recommended this.

We're reaching the end of this story. I've enjoyed writing it immensely. Thank you for reading :)

**Definitions:**

Soft drink - Soda. Or pop. Or whatever you want to call it depending on where you are.

Lollies - Aussie word for candy.

Freddo Frogs - the best reward a kid can get when you go to a corner shop (general store). They're little chocolate frogs and they come in yummy flavours. They tend to melt at this time of year, and then the frog's faces get all smooshy and creased.

Frothies - Slang word for beers.

Joint - In this instance, it's slang for 'house'.

Pash - Appropriate US reference would probably be 'make out'. A 'make out session' in Aus might be called a pash fest.

To pick up - To hook up. Usually for a pash.

Aluminium foil (or alfoil for short) - tin foil.

Yeah, nah - I hadn't realised how much I say this personally until an American pointed it out to me. It basically means, "Yes, I hear what you're saying, but I don't agree with you."

Pushie - short for push bike. Or bike, if you want to simplify it even further.

Chrissie - short for Christmas.

"You don't rag on your mates." - You don't pick on them or give them a hard time. Especially true for something serious, as mentioned in the story. Mates are mates—and you always stick up for them. Even when they're being a wanker.

Fair dinkum - Best translation I can come up with is: that's the absolute truth. If you say fair dinkum, you're serious. It can also be used as a question eg. fair dinkum? As in, is that the absolute truth? It's funny what you realise when you really listen to people—I've noticed that more people say this than I thought. I guess I'm just used to hearing it.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thank you to TwiSNFan and Astro2009. I don't own Twilight. M-ish rating ahead...and a longer A/N, too.

* * *

**Weather With You**

**Chapter 6**

Here's something I've learned over the last few days: I really, _really_ like kissing Edward.

I've never really had somebody to kiss pretty much whenever I like. Not that I can _whenever_ I like, because I like kissing him _a lot._ And it's not always an appropriate time...or place.

Anyway, the last few days have been pretty amazing. It's all so new to me because I've never really had a boyfriend before, but I have to say, Charlie's taking it quite well.

Edward and I, in the space of just a few days, have fallen into an easy routine. In the mornings, I go to work, then I go home and either have lunch with Charlie, or head straight over to Liz's. I have to admit, I was a bit worried about what Liz might say. I was super-embarrassed after being busted on the couch too, but Edward's casual touches and his gentlemanly behaviour when we're around other people mean that Liz and Charlie are okay leaving us alone. Charlie did lay down the law though, and said that Edward is not allowed in my bedroom.

When we're home alone, however, I've found the couch is actually quite comfortable. So is the lounger out the back, surprisingly. That's where we are now—under a canopy of grapevines and stars, and cocooned within a haze of heady citronella to keep the mozzies at bay.

"Bloody hell. Your skin, right here. It's just...so soft." Edward's lips are travelling somewhere below my ribs and above my hips. I'm pressed into the couch by his body, my back arched, as his mouth caresses every bit of skin he can reach without dipping below the boundary of my bathers.

My eyes roll back into my head as he moves back up my body and kisses my neck. "Damn, Edward." I gasp as his teeth graze my skin. "That feels so good."

"Mmm," he murmurs, covering my body with his but carrying most of his weight on his arms. He gives my neck one last nibble, and then we're face to face. With what feels like a couple of fingers, he brushes my hair away from my face and looks down at me, a look in his pure green eyes that I've become quite familiar with this past week or so. I didn't know what it meant inthose first few days...but I'm pretty sure I do now. He smiles. "I can't believe I found you. Here."

I grin back, my over-kissed lips tingling. "Me neither." When I say it, I know it's true. I expected my new life to begin once I left Forks Creek. I had no idea that it would start here, quite literally in my own backyard.

Pulling him down, I kiss him again. I can't help it—I pretty much want to kiss him all the time. Shifting my head a bit, I trail kisses below his jaw and onto his neck. He lifts his head to let me reach better, and I know I'm doing something right when his arms start to tremble and he presses himself into my hip with a deep groan.

"Should I stop?" I ask breathlessly. He stills, and his muscles tense.

"Just give me a minute."

"Oh," I say, shifting to give him more space, but he holds me still.

"Don't move." His voice is deep and husky, and that alone is enough to make my skin tingle, particularly beneath my bathers top.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

"Don't be," he replies. "I just need a sec."

I know he said not to move, but he really looks uncomfortable. I shift my body away to give him a bit more space. "I might get some water," I say. "And then...um...do you want to watch some TV or something?"

"Yeah," he says, his voice still sounding strained. "Cold water would be really good."

After wiggling into a standing position, I straighten my singlet top. "'Kay. Come inside when you're ready?"

Edward rolls onto his back and throws an arm over his face. "I'm right behind you."

As I slide open the door, I throw him one last glance. What I see makes my eyes widen—the bulge in his board shorts is huge. Like..._huge._

With my face again flaming, I hurriedly head to where the jug of water is in the fridge and grab two glasses out of the cupboard. I'm not sure how I have any blood left in my body to allow me to function—a large portion of it seems to be rushing to my face whenever Edward is around. The rest of it, well, it's elsewhere. It makes me want to squirm and roll my hips to try and stop myself from exploding.

"You want something to eat?" I call. Edward's still on the deck.

"Yeah, okay."

I wander into the pantry and start digging around for food and find a block of chocolate and the biscuit tin. I gather some stuff together on a tray and head into the lounge room, flicking on the TV and spreading the impromptu supper across the coffee table. I'm curled up on the couch flicking through TV channels when Edward wanders in.

"You okay?" I ask as he plonks down beside me.

He turns to look at me, and that same look is there, but it's toned down a bit. "Yeah." He smiles. "I'm fine." As quick as anything, he pulls me onto his lap. "I'm better now, though."

I grin, and touch my nose to his. "Good." I reach towards the coffee table, and Edward's hands firmly grip my hips. I pass Edward his glass of water and grab my own, and then watch his throat move as he drinks his down.

He's built so differently to me. Everything about him says strength. His hands, his broad shoulders, his strong jaw. But where he's hard angles and firmness, I'm a bit squishier. The way his fingers flare around my hips, following the contours of slight curves that I've only really been aware of lately, makes me feel more like a woman than a girl. The reactions that my body has when he touches me, kisses me, definitely make me feel like a woman.

"So, what time do you want to head off tomorrow?" Edward asks, setting his glass down on the table beside the couch and reaching for the remote. He starts flicking, and frowns because there's nothing on.

"I finish work at one, so I s'pose after I have lunch?"

"Sounds good," he says. He finds a Twenty 20 cricket match on, and settles on that. The volume is down low, so we can still hear each other talk.

"So," I say, tracing the line on his bicep where one muscle meets the next. As simple as it is, this is one of my favourite parts on him. "Have you thought any more about where you'll live?"

He sighs. "Yeah. I think I'm going to take the place on campus. For my first year, at least." His thumb creeps below the line of my t-shirt and rubs my bare skin above my shorts. "It'll give me a chance to get settled." He takes a deep breath and lets it out again. "I told my dad about changing my preferences for uni."

"Oh?" I look at his face, where the lights of the TV cast shadows across his features. "What'd he say?"

A small, surprised smile appears on his lips and his eyebrows rise. "He was okay about it, actually. He said he just wants me to be happy." Edward's face relaxes, and he looks into my eyes. "It's a real load off."

"I bet," I say. The way his shoulders relax a bit tells me more than his words do. He's been really worried about it, and I know he and Liz have talked about it at length. "So you'll live in one of the colleges then?"

"Yep. Same one Dad lived at." He grins. "You'll visit?"

I smile. "Yeah. Ange is moving into the one next door."

"Really?" He squeezes me tighter. "You've got no excuse then."

"What about you?" I follow the path my finger is tracing with my eyes. "Will you visit me?"

"Are you kidding?" he says, nuzzling my neck. "Just you and me, uninterrupted?" He sucks gently below my ear. "Try and keep me away." I close my eyes and grip his arms tighter. He responds by pulling me closer, and it's awkward because I'm all twisted.

In an act of bravery on my part, I shift my weight and swing my leg over so that I'm straddling him. We both hesitate—while we've cuddled up together and we've kissed _heaps, _we've not yet been quite in _this_ position; not close to each other like this.

"Should I hop off?" I ask, and Edward's eyes appear darker in the dim light of the television. He doesn't say anything, but he pulls my lips onto his mouth and our bodies closer together. And it feels like nothing—_nothing—_I've felt before.

There's lips, and sucking, and gasping. And then, there's pressure and friction. And this is not like anything else. I shift my hips, and the motion makes me gasp and him groan. And it feels so unbelievably, tummy-tighteningly _amazing_ that I do it again.

"Fuck." Edward pulls his lips away, but he's breathing into my mouth. "Do that again."

I do, and something in my body starts to feel tightened and twisted, like newspaper is when it's scrunched into a ball. He pushes up against me, and I grind back. I kiss him again, open-mouthed like I want to trap every part of him in my body and let him live there. Or maybe I want to wiggle so much that our skin fuses together and we become the same body. I don't know what—but I need to keep moving.

"Oh, God," I say, and the words squeak on my breath. He moves, and I move, and our breaths come faster and noises come from deep in my lungs and burn my throat as they fall out of my mouth and into the air. He grunts, and the sound of him combined with me, makes me want to move faster, like I'm chasing a bus that I _know_ I have to catch.

The feeling pushes stars behind my eyes, and I clench them shut to stop them falling out. With a long, low groan, he pushes against me, trying to still me, and with two more rolls of my hips, I cling to him as my body bursts, like the river hitting the bank after a boat passes, wave after wave.

Our skin sticks together with a sheen of sweat, and the sound of shallow breaths fill the lounge room.

"Oh," I say, because I don't have any other words. "Oh…"

Edward's steady breathing grounds me. "Bloody hell."

"What…I mean...what was…?" I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.

Edward pulls back a bit so that his face becomes clearer. "Did you…?"

I blink. "Did I what?"

He's still breathing heavily, but his green eyes stare into mine. "Did you...come?"

My breath catches, and that knot in my tummy tightens again. "Um…" I think about it for a sec. "I think so." I smile, and it feels so lazy that I probably look drunk. "I feel all floaty."

A wide, equally-lazy smile spreads across Edward's face. "Cool." He gives me a lingering kiss. "Is that...I mean, was it the first time?"

My cheeks are already flushed, so there's probably no change. "Yeah."

"Even…" He clears his throat. "Even with yourself?"

I snuggle into him, hiding my face in his shirt. "Yeah." In a small voice, I ask, "You?"

"No, when you're a guy, you can't really help it." He seems to struggle with what he wants to say, and he pauses before he continues. "I haven't really with anyone else. I mean, I had a girlfriend last year. The one I kissed?" He swallows heavily, and I shift so I can see his face. He looks down at a spot on my t-shirt. "We did...the same as we just did. But then she dumped me." He shakes his head, and he looks embarrassed. "She laughed."

I blanch. "Laughed? Why?"

He shrugs one shoulder. "She said I couldn't last 'til I at least got my gear off." He keeps his gaze down. "She said I got my rocks off before I even got my jocks off."

My first instinct is to hunt down the bitch that caused my boy to be so embarrassed. "I thought you were amazing. I thought _that_ was pretty fucking amazing. I mean…" I grin, just a bit. "..._hello."_

"You liked it?" he asks, letting his eyes meet mine again.

I nod slowly. "When can we do it again?"

At that, Edward laughs out loud. "Not for a while. I mean, I have to go...clean up."

"Oh!" I clamber off his lap and onto the couch. "Okay. Um...do you need anything?"

"Nah," he says, standing awkwardly. "I have spare shorts in my bag." He hooks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the laundry toilet. "I'll...um...I'll be back in a sec."

I smile at his retreating form. "Okay." When he's gone, I snag a piece of chocolate from the coffee table and pop it into my mouth. As I grab a cushion and cuddle it into me and savour the sweet taste on my tongue, a thought pops into my head, as clear as a bell. It makes me squeal into the pillow.

Nope. What Edward and I just did is _definitely_ better than chocolate.

_._._._._

_Extra bathers. Clean undies. Extra pair of shorts. Clean t-shirt. A pair of trackies for when it gets cold. Deodorant. Socks and runners, so the mozzies don't eat my feet._

I'm tossing things into my old schoolbag to get me through the overnight stay out the river. After being flat-out all morning at the shop, I can't wait to put my feet up—or in the river—and kick back with a beer. Or two. Or three.

"You about ready?" Charlie's voice from the doorway startles me.

"Yeah," I say, rolling my beach towel and stuffing it on top of everything else. "I think I'm done."

"Good." My dad shuffles his feet. "That's good."

I keep moving around the room, picking up things that are scattered about—bluetooth speakers, aloe vera—and I'm aware of Charlie's presence...he's still shuffling.

It's when he takes a deep breath, exhaling through his nose, that I stop. "What's up?"

He sucks in his bottom lip, making his moustache do funny things. He shrugs. "My little girl's growing up."

I roll my eyes. "I'm going for one night, Charlie. I'm not moving out. You're stuck with me a bit longer yet."

"I know, I know." He does that breathing thing again. "It's just that there'll be boys, Bella. And boys—"

"Ah!" I cut him off, scrunching up my face and blocking my ears. "You don't have to...I mean...I know about…" I shake my head to rid myself of unwanted visuals. "I know how..._things_ work. I don't need you to…" I'm still spluttering, and I finally spit the words out. "Mum already did it."

"Good," Charlie says quickly. "That's good." He makes a hasty retreat, and as he walks down the hallway I hear him muttering something about hoping he's not called out to the river to bust up an orgy.

At that, I just about chuck into my backpack.

As I keep packing, thoughts swim through my head. Edward's taking his own tent, and I'm sharing with Ange, but I wonder what he expects. And if I end up in _his_ tent, does it mean I have to…

I know we've done some...stuff. And although Ange suggested I should do more, my gut had said no. As I catch my own reflection in the full-length mirror on my wardrobe door, I know it—I'm not ready.

I _feel_ like I'm a grown up, but I'm not quite _there_ yet.

Scooping up my bag and grabbing my straw hat from its perch on the post of my bed-head, I walk into kitchen. As I pass the sliding door, I see Charlie sitting on the lounger on the deck under the shade of the grapevine, flipping the pages on a book too fast to be actually read them. I set my backpack and hat on the kitchen table. Charlie looks up when I open the sliding door, but his attention quickly goes back to the rapidly turning pages.

I drag one of the chairs at the table closer to him, feeling the light breeze that's blowing across the deck. The cool change came in last night, and the fire bans have been lifted. We've been lucky to make it through the week without any big fires, and the next few days are expected to be much more comfortable. This means we'll be able to have a campfire and sparklers tonight, and Charlie's duties will be limited to controlling drunk tourists rather than helping manage the emergency management centre.

Charlie doesn't look at me when I sit down.

"Um, Dad?" I say, my voice small. "You don't have to worry about me." Charlie starts to talk, but I put up a hand. "I'm not...like that. You raised me better than to be _that_ kind of girl."

He twists his mouth to the side, his gaze not leaving his book. "Is that Brandon girl going?"

"No," I reply quickly. "She wasn't invited."

"Just because she's not invited doesn't mean she won't turn up," he grumbles, and then he speaks louder. "Good. She's trouble. Her mother doesn't keep a tight enough rein on her. Leaves it to the rest of Forks Creek to watch her. I don't like you near her."

I smile, just a bit. "I don't like being near her, either."

Charlie's grin breaks through his cop-face facade for the briefest moment before he gets it under control.

"Look," I say, and he closes the book with a deep breath. "You really don't need to worry—"

"I'll always worry." The look in his eyes tells me this is true.

I sigh. "I know. But I won't do anything stupid. It's a small group of us, and we're keeping things low key. Promise."

He pauses a moment before he answers. "I know, Bells. But I'm your dad. I'm supposed to worry."

I stand up and put my hands on my hips. "Well, I worry about you too." I give him my sternest look. "Be careful tonight."

"I will. I've been doing this a long time." When I give him a raised eyebrow, he puts his book down and gets to his feet. "I promise I'll be careful. Now, c'mere." He spreads his arms, and I walk into them. "Love you, Bells. Happy New Year."

I bury my face into his chest. "Love you, too. Happy New Year, Dad."

_._._._._

The windows in my ute are down and I let my left arm fall out, catching and waving the air in the passing breeze. The browned paddocks of freshly-harvested wheat roll by, and a few fluffy puffs dot the blue that stretches from horizon to horizon. Far above us, a long white cloud streaks across the sky, showing the flight path of the Melbourne to Sydney plane that you only seem to see evidence of here every few days. I look across the bench seat at the strong hands gripping the steering wheel of my ute. Edward is concentrating on the road ahead, although he's much more relaxed than when we left Liz's. When I tossed him the keys and asked if he wanted to drive, he nearly died...but he didn't say no.

It's weird to see the world from this side of the cabin, but I can scroll through my phone and pick music without having to keep my eyes glued. I switch songs when I get sick of one, and skip through to find my faves.

Beside me, Edward chuckles.

"What?" I ask, scrolling.

"You always do that?" he asks.

"Do what?"

He taps on the steering wheel with each word. "Skip. Skip. Skip."

"Well, yeah," I say, shrugging. "That way I only have to hear the ones I like." I point up ahead. "Go down that road."

He hits the indicator—probably a bit early—and starts to slow down. The one-ton ute behind us overtakes us, a kelpie barking at us from the ute's tray as it passes. "If you don't like them, why are they on your phone?"

Shrugging, I try to explain. "''Cause they're all good for certain times. Aha!" I find a song in a playlist I made for my dad, and I tap the screen. My smile stretches wide when I look across the cabin at him. "Like this one."

The familiar, marching-style intro fills the cabin, and Edward's face turns pink at the snare drum's rhythm. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you."

I giggle. "Never."

"Change it," he says, cringing. "Please."

"_Nooo_," I say. "It's cute!"

"Farnsy isn't cute. He's old." Edward shakes his head. "Now change it."

"Okay," I mutter. "It's a classic though." I keep scrolling, and make another selection. I notice Edward grin as the sound of a single guitar plays above the wind whistling through the cabin. This song is more Charlie's vintage than mine, but I love it. "You like this one?" I ask, liking seeing Edward smile.

"It'd be un-Australian not to. And besides "—Edward's hand reaches for mine across the bench seat, and he weaves our fingers together—"I like it because it kinda reminds me of you."

"It does?" I ask, shifting in my seat with embarrassment. My legs stick a bit to the vinyl, and I pull my knees to my chest, perching my bare feet on the edge of the seat. "How?"

He answers quickly, confidently. "The way you hug me. It's just like he says. You pretty much throw your arms around me."

I don't know if he's trying to be romantic or something, but a warm feeling spreads from my chest throughout my body, and just like in the song, I want to shout it to the blue summer sky. Lifting his hand, I kiss his fingers. He gives my palm a squeeze, then rests our still-joined hands back on the seat.

We keep driving towards Tay's, the warm summer air flowing through the car, and Edward's voice singing softly along with Mark Seymour's.

Being anywhere with Edward is just like falling for him—he makes it really, really easy.

_._._._._

I lean back in one of the old deck chairs Tay keeps in the little shed his family has at this spot on the river, and hum contentedly.

For most of the time, 'here' is a cow paddock. But lucky for us, Tay's dad gets the jackaroos to move the cattle a few paddocks over so they don't trample our tents in the night. Although that doesn't mean walking around here isn't like avoiding landmines.

Tonight, it's the place I'm going to ring in the new year with my best mates and my...whatever Edward is.

There's a drop-dunny down a track away from the water—well, it's better than digging a hole behind a tree—and Tay and his dad hooked up this contraption with a twenty gallon drum and a copper coil in the campfire. Combine that with a bucket and a bilge pump, and we've got hot running water for showers if we want.

The boys went fishing and yabbying earlier and, as luck would have it, they actually caught a few, and a couple of medium-sized yellowbelly too. As tea was cooking, there was the inevitable big discussion about the two-foot cod Sambo reckons he caught last year, although nobody ever saw it so we're pretty sure it never happened.

"How nice was that?" Edward sits in the chair next to me. "Tay's not a bad cook." He leans closer to me, tipping the chair sideways onto two legs. "Not as good as you, but." After giving me a quick kiss on the cheek, he sets the chair upright and stretches his legs out in front of him. He's still in shorts, just like the other boys, whereas the girls and I put on trackie pants when the mozzies started eating our ankles. I tried to find a jumper, but came up empty-handed when I looked through my bag.

"Ta," I tell him. He's already told me my cooking's good a couple of times tonight, although he complimented Rosie on the chocolate pudding she made in the camp oven. She smiled shyly, blushing like crazy when Emmett started mucking around, teasing her about how she's come a long way since she burned the toasted sandwiches we had to make in Home Ec in year seven. Edward bragged a bit about my pavlova to the other boys, and then he made me promise to make it for him again when we go to uni.

_When we go to uni._

Ange was there, and raised an eyebrow sky-high after that comment. I had to look away so I didn't get caught smiling my face off.

The atmosphere around the campfire started off pretty chilled out, but everyone's getting a bit more excited as the minutes tick by and more drinks are consumed. The music coming from Rick's Falcon has gotten louder, and I give it about an hour before the inevitable playlist containing Cold Chisel is broken out. Although I'm pretty sure it's not Rick who'll put it on—he hasn't moved since Ange sat on his lap.

I listen to everybody chat, joining in every now and then, and I shiver when a cool breeze passes through the campsite. After dragging my bum out of my chair, I head for my ute, hoping that I've got a jumper stashed in there somewhere. I should've known there wouldn't be one there, though—I haven't needed a jumper in months.

"Cold?" asks Edward when I shift my chair a bit closer to the fire.

"Yeah," I say. "I forgot my jumper. Charlie distracted me when I was packing, and I s'pose I just forgot."

"Come for a walk? I think I have a spare in my bag."

He rises to his feet and holds out a hand, helping me up when I take it. I follow him to his tent, and am thankful when nobody says anything about us wandering off in this direction.

He crawls in, and lifts the flap. "Come in for a bit?" His tone is more questioning, like he's asking if I want to. Like I'm able to say no if I want to...but I don't. Dropping to my knees, I follow him into the cramped space. His sleeping bag, already laid out, is warm from the tent sitting in the sun all afternoon.

"Hi," he says, drawing me close.

"Hi," I reply, and I close my eyes as our lips touch.

We kiss for a bit, ending up lying down on top of the sleeping bag. I don't really need the jumper now—in the tent, the air is warm from the day's sun and our breathing. I shiver when Edward's fingers creep beneath my t-shirt, but it's not from the cold. When he traces the wire of my bra, I freeze.

"Hey," he says, stopping and pulling back. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I say. "I...um…"

He props himself up on one elbow. "What is it?"

My face flushes, and I'm sure it's flame-red like the campfire. "I'm...I'm not ready."

"For…" In the barely-there light, I see Edward's forehead wrinkle. "Oh!"

"Yeah," I say. I repeat it again. "I'm not ready."

"Oh, Bella," he says, tracing my hairline. "Me neither. I mean…"—his voice is strained—"...I want to, believe me I do." He clears his throat. "But...later. I mean, not tonight," he adds hurriedly. "Later, when we're both ready."

I exhale and feel like a weight has been lifted from my chest. "You're okay with that?"

"Yeah," he says quickly. "And there's still other stuff we can do."

I smile, and I pull him closer. "Yeah. Other stuff's good."

"Yeah." He leans down, kissing me soundly and sending my heart flying again. "Other stuff's really good."

My hair was a mess before I went into Edward's tent, so it probably doesn't look any worse when I emerge. I tuck my hands into the sleeves of Edward's Port Mary Seagulls jumper—it's big and warm, and it smells like him. I try not to grin stupidly as we walk back towards the others.

Yeah. Kissing Edward is one of my new favourite things.

_._._._._

"How much longer?" asks Jake for the billionth time.

"Forty-five minutes, I told you already, like three minutes ago," replies Sambo. He nudges Jake in the arm.

Jake whacks him back, grinning. "Fuck off. I was only asking."

I laugh at them, and something tells me to pinch my nose—which is going numb. Maybe it's since I switched to UDLs, but I'm feeling pretty tipsy. Not drunk-tipsy, just a bit giggly-tipsy. And as I look around at my friends, I'm starting to feel nostalgic...and I only hope that doesn't lead to sooky-tipsy.

"What are you doing?" asks Emmett. He stands in front of me, back to the fire, and I hope he doesn't get close enough to singe the leg hairs on his calves.

"Pinching my nose," I reply. "What are you doing?"

"Toasting my arse," he answers, like it's obvious.

"Heh." I suppose it is obvious.

"So, bitty-Bella." Emmett takes a swig from his can. It's wrapped in the commemorative stubby holders his year had made for finishing year twelve. We got t-shirts. They're shit—I'll probably only ever use mine for sleeping. "It's nearly the new year. Making any resolutions?"

"Yeah," I reply, wriggling my nose. I still can't feel it. "Change my phone number so you can't find me."

Emmett clutches his chest. "Oh, right through the heart!" He grins, and takes another swig. "You really don't want to stay in touch?"

"Ha," I say. "Nah, you're right. You're one of the people I probably actually _do_ want to stay in touch with." I tilt my head to see him better. "You finally gonna start that course?"

Emmett tilts his nose up, like he's snooty. "It's called a _Bachelor of Engineering_, Bella. It's not like it's, oh, I don't know..."—he pretends to think about it—"Arts, or writing or some shit."

I laugh. "Fuck off, idiot. Media and Comms isn't just writing."

"You think you'll get in?" he asks, suddenly serious.

I take a sip of my drink, and the bubbles tingle my tongue. At least _that's_ not numb. "I hope so. I mean, my marks were high enough. But I s'pose it comes down to how many people apply." I sigh deeply. "I really hope I get in. It's what I've always wanted to do." I chuckle. "At least you already know you're in."

"Yeah." He nudges my leg with his foot. "You'll be right, Bells."

"Ta," I say, sticking my finger down in between my can and stubby holder. "What about you? Any New Year's resolutions?"

His eyes look in the direction of where Rosie is sitting away from the group on a log. "Yeah," he says absently. "I'm gonna ask Rosie out."

I laugh. "'Bout bloody time." I follow his gaze, and when he starts to walk towards her, I get out of my chair. "Easy, tiger. I'm not sure she looks like she's in the mood right now." I nod at my empty chair. "Mind my spot. I'll be back in a minnie."

He doesn't bother sitting, but takes a sip and wanders over to where Tay and Rick are deep in conversation about something. I head off towards Rosie and sit down next to her.

"What's up, Buttercup?"

Rosie gazes across the still surface of the river. It's so smooth that it's like a mirror, the moon making light dance off the water. She takes a deep, deep breath. "Did you know Alice tried picking up Emmett?"

"What?" I say, tucking one foot under me and balancing my beer on my knee. "When?"

"Boxing Day," she replies. "She met them out at Sambo's. I guess she knew I was going to be away and took advantage of the situation."

I blanch. Rosie has been nothing but totally loyal to Alice for her whole life. They were in kindergarten together, and have been best friends ever since. Even as they grew older, and Alice discovered boys and made it her personal mission to chase each one of them, Rosie was always right with her. And when the rumours started about the kind of girl Alice was growing up to be, Rosie defended her. Every single time.

"You're kidding, right?" I look to see any hint of humour, but Rosie remains stone-faced. "Oh my God, you're not. What a fucking bitch!"

Rosie and I sit for a minute, quiet and still against the rowdiness that's going on over near the campfire.

"Why would she do that?" Rosie doesn't even sound upset. Her tone is more...disappointed. "I mean, I thought we were supposed to be best friends." She sighs, like the weight of fourteen years of friendship just fell from her shoulders. "I knew what she was like. I knew what she did to everyone else. I just didn't think she'd do it to me."

A cool breeze blows gently in from the river, rustling the leaves in the gum trees high above. Listening to the goodnight song of the crickets, I debate whether I should ask her, and then I figure that if Alice is her closest friend, Rosie has probably rarely had anyone ask after her. "Did you really believe that?"

Blowing out a breath, she shakes her head. "I wanted to. But, no. Now that I think about it, I s'pose not." She looks down at her feet, and her voice grows small. "You must think I'm a real idiot, huh."

"Hey." I twist in my chair to face her. "I don't think you're an idiot. Nobody thinks you're an idiot." I place my hand on her arm and she looks up at me like a girl lost. "She's an absolute dickhead for treating you like that—for treating _everybody_ like that."

"We were going to get a flat together," she says with a shrug. "You know, in Melbourne?" I nod. I did know this—they've been talking about it each lunch time all year. "But I think she's going to stay in town. I think it was all bullshit. She's never going to leave Forks Creek."

"What about you?" I ask. "Are you still going?"

From the campfire, I hear Emmett laugh heartily. Instinctively, like she doesn't realise she's doing it, her gaze follows the direction of the sound and a smile creeps onto her face for a fleeting moment. "Yeah. I am." Just as quickly as her smile appeared, it's replaced with a frown. "I don't know what I'm going to do now, though. I don't have family in Melbs that I can stay with. I s'pose I'll just have to find a sharehouse or something."

"Good," I say, grinning back. "I'm glad you're going. You won't be alone—I'm moving to Melbs, so's Ange...and Emmett." I give her a wink. "And yeah. Fuck Alice."

Rosie's face screws up. "Not me," she says, wrinkling her nose. "Everybody else's already been there."

I throw my head back, the laughter coming from deep within my chest, and after a minute, Rosie does the same. We're pretty much in hysterics when Edward finds us.

"G'day," he says sidling up to us, his cheeks pinked by the sun and a couple of beers. "What's cracked you two up?"

"Ah," I say. "Just talking about the town bike."

"That Alice girl?" Edward says, scratching the skin below the stubby holder around his wrist.

"You know what she's like?" Rosie says, a bit incredulous. "You don't even live here."

He shrugs, like it doesn't matter. And I know it doesn't. "Yeah. I wasn't buyin' what she was sellin'. Or, in her case, giving away free to a good home—free to any home."

Rosie giggles, and glances at me. "He's cute," she says.

I stand up, and Edward comes to wrap his hands around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. I lean back against him. "Yeah," I say, grinning. "He is."

Getting to her feet, Rosie is already scanning the group by the campfire. "Well, I'll leave you two kids to it." When she wanders off, I notice there's a bit of a spring in her step. I see her walk up beside Emmett, and he wraps an arm around her and kisses the top of her head, quickly, naturally. She's smiling, and he keeps talking to Tay as he holds Rosie close, like it's the way it's supposed to be.

"Finally," I say, letting the word come out with my breath.

"What's that?" Edward says against my neck. It gives me tingles.

"Those two." I nod my head in their direction.

"Long time coming?" he asks, kissing me softly.

I nod, and then move my head so he can reach more of my neck. "Yeah."

He kisses me once more, and then sighs deeply, releasing me from his grasp. "She's a nice girl."

"She is," I say, already missing the feeling of his arms around me.

"Maybe she could be your flatmate," he says, taking my hand. We walk slowly back over to the campfire, heading for the side where the smoke isn't blowing.

"Hmm." That's definitely something I hadn't thought of, but maybe…I resolve to think about it and talk to Charlie to see what he thinks.

_._._._._

"Four minutes!" says Jake, handing Sambo a beer out of the esky and grabbing one for himself. "Put the radio on."

Ange grabs my hand and squeals, before releasing it and dancing off to put the radio on so we can hear the countdown. I start to follow her, but Edward's arms wrap around me. "G'day," he says in my ear.

"Where ya been?" I ask, because I haven't seen him in about five minutes and it's kind of hard to lose people in such a small group.

"Behind a tree, seeing a man about a dog," he replies, and I'm sorry I asked. "It's nearly time."

"It is," I say. "I bet this isn't where you imagined you'd be when you came to Liz's for Christmas."

"It's not," he admits, and he's smiling. "But I'm bloody happy to be here."

Rosie appears beside us. "Here," she says, handing me a sparkler then drawing out a couple for Ange and Jess. "You need a lighter?"

"I'll use the fire," I tell her, and she giggles as she runs off. As I watch her go, I hope this year signifies new things for her, too. A life free of the claws of Bitchy Brandon, and in the arms of the boy who's loved her since forever.

"You look happy," says Edward, nuzzling my shoulder.

"I am happy," I tell him, and I feel it everywhere—and it's not just because of the vodka and oranges I've been drinking. "I've got heaps to be happy about. New year, new start."

"You're beautiful when you're happy," he says, grinning. In the light of the fire, his face glows a bit rosy.

I quirk an eyebrow at him. "I'm cutting you off."

"I'm not that drunk," he adds quickly. "I switched to softies earlier. One of us needs to drive home in the morning."

"Good call," I say, just as Jake yells, "One minute!" The announcer on the radio echoes him.

There's scurrying, and time seems to go so slowly, but then everyone's counting down from twenty. I can hear the faint echoes of another group further down the river doing the same thing.

"Happy New Year," Edward murmurs, just as everybody else yells the same thing at the top of their voices.

"Happy New Year," I tell him, and he captures my mouth with his. I melt into him, my sparkler hanging limply from my fingers, and let myself get swept away. I pull back when Ange squeals at me.

"This year's gonna be the best!" she says, hugging me and sandwiching me between her and Edward. "Look after her, Eddie!"

"I will," he tells her, and then she's gone and throwing herself at Rick. I laugh.

"Does this mean I'm stuck with you?" I ask, peering up at him.

"Fuck yeah," he says, holding me tight. "Because this, what we have, is something special. And now I've found you, I want to stay with you."

In the background, the others run around, shouting "Happy New Year" and kissing and hugging and high-fiving and shaking hands. Edward wraps me closer, beneath a canopy of river red gum branches and a star-filled sky.

This is a new year, and it feels like it's the beginning of my new life. A life where I'm not a kid anymore, and I'm going to be out on my own.

Edward said he'll be there, and I really hope he is.

Maybe what we have is forever. Maybe this is just for this summer. Maybe this is a story I'll want to tell more people than just myself in the years to come. All I know is that Edward has helped my last summer here as a kid be filled with feelings that make me feel like I'm definitely starting to be a grown up, and that I'm maybe ready to start taking on the world.

He hugs me tighter and kisses my forehead. "I meant it, Bella," he says, his lips slipping to whisper in my ear. His breath tickles, but I welcome it because it means he's close. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

I burrow deeper in the cocoon of our blanket and stare up at him. I look into his eyes, and I know it.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, too."

He smiles, and it's like the sun has risen already although it's hours away. Whatever we decide to do, we're going to be in the same city, and we're going to see more of each other. We're going to see where this goes. And that gives me a warm, bubbly, happy feeling that I want to stay with me.

I snuggle in. He tilts my chin up so our lips meet, and the kiss is deep and full of promise. I lose myself in it, and I'm perfectly happy to be right where I am for now. I don't have to worry about finding a flatmate, or a part-time job, or making sure I get myself to class on time. I don't have to worry about essays, or exams, or handbrake starts on big hills, or hook turns in the city. Right now, I'm perfectly content to be kissed senseless by this boy.

I'll worry about the rest later. I have Edward, and hope, and the early flutterings of love. And together we have nothing to conquer but blue skies of possibilities ahead of us.

* * *

**A/N: **That's it! Thank you so much for indulging me. This story is basically a love letter: it's dedicated to the way of life I know, and to the readers out there for whom Christmas is about summertime and scorching heat. For my readers down under—this is for you.

I'll say it again: thank you to TwiSNFan who takes a chance on everything I write. She's a special kind of friend...and not just because she comes to help me paint my house when I'm freaking out that I don't have enough hours in the day.

And to Astro2009 for your beta work—I've so enjoyed working with you. You make me think, and the snippets you suggest help take my brain to places. It's one thing to fix commas, but it's another to be a true sounding board. So thank you for that.

I've absolutely loved writing this story, and I kinda don't want to say goodbye to this mob. Maybe I won't. Never say never, right? But for now, as far as Christmas in Forks Creek goes, that's it. Thank you so much for reading—I've so loved your thoughts in your reviews for this one (hint, hint) :)

Mags xx

* * *

**Aussie definitions:**

Softies- Soft drink. Aka soda, pop, coke.

Trackies - Also known as trackie dacks. Or tracksuit pants. Or sweats.

Drop-dunny - A long drop toilet.

Yabbying - Yabbies are freshwater shellfish.

Ta - Thanks

Finishing a sentence with but - It's common in informal (and usually spoken) Australian English to tack "but" on at the end of a sentence. Think of it as a substitute for 'though' eg. "Not as good as you, but." = "Not as good as you, though."

Stubby holder - A beer holder (a stubby is a short-necked beer bottle. Wait, did we cover this already?). Known as a beer koozie in some parts of the world.

Flat mate - A room mate. A flat is an apartment.

Falcon - A type of Australian (for now) car made by Ford.

Sooky - I have no idea how to explain this. Whiny? Yeah. Let's go with that.

Jumper - Sweater or pullover.

UDL - This stands for United Distillers Limited. It's an Australian brand of pre-mixed drinks. They come in mixtures like vodka and either raspberry, orange, pineapple, passionfruit, or lime, or scotch and coke.


End file.
